Identity
by mariposademuerte
Summary: For a girl with nothing left but herself, and a man with a past as red as the star on his shoulder, Hydra's two projects must work together to survive and discover who they really are. Only question is whether they can live with the findings.
1. Winter's Grasp

A.N: Hello all new folks. This story is just a brain-child that keeps growing like Athena. I'm usually into Stucky but I tried thinking of what female could match the Winter Solider. Alas, this story was born. I'm writing it because I want to read it. So without ado. I give you Identity.

* * *

Winter's Grasp

Cold. So very cold. Why was the floor so cold? Probing with her fingers, she felt the concrete floor. It was smooth and firm under her palm. What was she doing here? Where was here? Her head throbbed with pressure and she moved her iced hands to her temple to ease the pain. Slowly she cracked open her eyes to see the gray surface causing her thermal discomfort. There was condensation from where her breath hit the chilled surface, only reassuring her that she was indeed alive. Next were the bars. Black, solid, immovable bars that either caged her within or protected her from the shadowed abyss beyond the light. Said light came from above. Twenty feet above her was a hole the size of a dinner platter. The light streaming in wasn't natural and provided no warmth, but it was light all the same. She sat up and cradled her head between her knees trying to recall the last thing she remembered, but only shadows like the abyss around greeted her. Her mind raced to think of anything. What was the year? Where did she live? She squeezed her eyes closed to block out the deafening silence that consumed her. She didn't know how long she sat there swimming in the vast desert of her brain, but when she looked up there was someone standing right at her cage.

She rose to her feet faster than she expected and crouched like a feral animal baring her teeth. There was no escape from containment and it seemed fighting was the only thing she could do. Her muscles coiled in anticipation. She studied the man in front of her carefully. He was medium height, somewhere within her mind measured five feet eleven inches, brown hair that reached his chin, and feral, deadly blue eyes mirroring her gaze. Half of his face was covered with a black mask emphasizing his dangerous appearance. The most striking feature was a metallic shimmer from left side of his body. His arm looked like it had a protective armor, but it oddly was only on one side of his body. She pinpointed this a possible source of weakness.

The stare-down continued for what seemed like hours but could have possibly only been minutes before the strange man spoke. "What is your name?"

She remained silent and glared at him indignantly. He sighed annoyed before taking a pistol from his side and shooting it an inch from where her hand was placed. She never flinched and continued to stare into the murderous depth of his eyes.

"I'll ask you once more. What is your name?"

She gazed at the barrel of the gun and then glanced at the figure standing behind the cage. She opened her mouth to say something, before hesitating. What was her name? Once again she tried to penetrate the darkness that flooded her brain. She had to have an identity. A name that was her own. Confusion and desperation saturated her features and she lowered herself onto her knees. How could she not know who she was? What happened? What is going on? Once again, pain flooded her head and she squeezed her eyes shut to only see colors flying before her eyes. She grasped her head between her hands and began rocking slowly back and forth. Try and try as she might she couldn't get past the force-field that contained her within her own mind. She continued to rock until a hand on her shoulder stopped her.

Her eyes snapped forward to meet the blue that glared beyond the bars. The man was there in her cage and she was trapped like the bird she was. She grabbed the man's outer arm and swung his momentum to his stomach earning a grunt. Continuing to clench the wrist within her grasp, she plowed a knee into his back effectively getting the upper hand. It had all happened in a flash. An automatic reaction even she never saw coming. She quickly looked around for an exit but found none. How? How did he get in? Her mind raced with all the possibilities and outcomes, all of which, failed miserably.

As she contemplated her escape, a whirling sound increased in frequency and volume. She looked for the origin of the strange noise and found it in the man's strange armor. Before she could react, the arm powered the man and herself up, where he could efficiently roll out of her hold and grasp her throat with the metal hand. The alloy bit down harshly against her skin and she found herself on her back, clawing at the hand and arm ferociously like a caught wildcat. The man straddled her hips and pressed down harder as she tried to buck away from him. He pressed down harder on her windpipe and she began to feel her airways closing. He glowered at her and asked again, "What is your name?"

She felt her tongue going numb and she choked out a measly "I don't know".

He loosened his grip slightly on the girls windpipe. "What was that?"

"I don't know!" she screamed into the echoing abyss.

The ominous man came closer to her face, his eyes practically burrowing into her skull. His eyes were like blue fires of hell consuming her whole.

"Good."


	2. Little Bird

Chapter Two

Little Bird

* * *

The winter solider stared at the measly girl lying on the ground. It had been three days since she arrived at the Hydra facility bound and blindfolded. She fought the whole way into the lab before finding herself in the chair the Winter Solider was most familiar with. He could still hear the savage screams as she blindly lashed out at her captors. They strapped her to the chair and shoved the rubber between her teeth. She continued to fight until her blindfold was removed, and she looked at each one of her abductors with hatred until she reached his own in the corner. The caramel color turned so dark that they looked like the pits of Hades. She lunged her whole body against her restraints and spit out the rubber teeth guard as she screamed profanities. The hatred in her eyes grew so fierce that even the stoic Winter Solider felt a shiver up his spine. Finally the technicians had enough of her noise and shoved the rubber guard back in her mouth, but not before almost losing their thumb to her vicious bite.

What happened next was something that even the killer would not wish upon his enemies. He watched her carefully as the machine placed the electric probes on her temples. Her chest swelled sharply but defiance never left her eyes. The head of Hydra nodded to the technician and the brain-washing began. The electricity surged through the probes slowly wiping away everything this girl was. Her identity, family, memories. All were gone with the flip of a switch. She didn't scream in the beginning. He vaguely remembered trying to do the same, but in the end, they all scream. The action of splitting the memories from brain was painful and most never made it to the end without fainting. The process finished fairly quickly and left the poor girl succumbing to the darkness that would soon invade her mind. She was limp in the chair. Her now caramel eyes vacant and he suddenly wished for the unruliness to stare back. The leader commanded him to take her to the cells in the basement and to keep her there until she complied to work for them. He grasped her small frame and hoisted her over his shoulder. She was light compared to his own body mass and he had no problems maneuvering her down the halls into the cells in the basement.

She laid on the concrete floor for three days. Never moving. The first wipe was always the most intensive. Hard laden memories were hard to scrub away from the brain. Hell, even he had flashbacks to a time he doesn't remember. He checked up on her every once in awhile to ensure she was still apart of this world and on the third day, he found her in the middle of her cell with her head between her knees. If she looked small before, she looked miniscule now. The side-effects of the wipe were a gnarly headache that persists for days on end and confusion. He could tell by her clenched face that she felt both currently. Once she finally looked up, he could see the shock in her eyes and then the fast conversion to a glare. Her body moved languidly to a crouch and she bared her teeth like a savage animal in the zoo. It was hardly menacing to watch a caged animal warily watch him but it was amusing nonetheless.

His first and only question was directed towards the girl to find the effectiveness out the brain-wash. Someone's name is the most important and deeply ingrained word in a person's mind. It's their identity and one of the first things they learn other than "mom" and "dad". They've said it their whole life and when asked who they are, one simply answers, "Well… I'm me." Their whole life has centered around their name and what that name will achieve, and the wipe destroys that. It takes away the purpose of life and that's why it's the most effective way to manipulate anyone. Take away their purpose and replace it with a new one. He didn't know his name before this but now as the Winter Solider, his mission was clearer than a sniper scope.

He had asked his question once and she defiantly stared him down. He grabbed the black 9mm from his side and fired a warning shot past her hand. She continued her stare unflinchingly and he was slightly impressed. He was expecting a blubbering mess but this was going to be much easier to work with. He asked once more and saw her hesitate. The vacant look returned to her eyes and she crumbled to her knees. Winter Soldier sighed as he placed the gun back in his holster. He phased through the bars and attempted to snap her out of it. He first tried snapping with his non mechanical arm and receive no response. Next he tried shaking her shoulder and her conscious began to return. He saw the light starting to come back to her eyes and then suddenly he was facing the concrete with a knee in his back. He wanted to look annoyed but he was pretty sure this was the closest to surprised he'd ever been. Angry with his miscalculated judgment, he quickly flipped the odds back to his side and straddled her while clenching her throat between his metal digits. She thrashed violently trying to disarm him but she was weak and at a disadvantage.

He asked the question one last time before he cut off her air for good. An inaudible whisper came from her mouth and he demanded her say it again, but this time less force on her throat. She was cooperating and that deserved an award. Positive reinforcement was a strong psychological motivation. She desperately screamed an "I don't know" finally and he was appeased. He was going to break her down slowly and then rebuild her to be just as lethal as himself. He rose from her body and watched as she grasped her throat and inhaled air as fast as she could. Her body instantly went into a protective and defensive fetal position. He walked away. Back into the darkness where he belonged, and where soon this girl would join him.


	3. Sweet Vibrations

Chapter Three

Sweet Vibrations

* * *

Minutes, hours, days, months. Time no longer mattered within the cage. The light above kept shining, food appearing, and she kept waiting. For what? She didn't know. All she knew was that there had to be a purpose to what they were doing to her. Did they need information? She didn't have a solid idea what for. She was suffering from some kind of amnesia and she could not remember names, locations, or even faces. She had to have a mother or father, and she tried over and over to see what faces she could find in the crevices of her brain but was only rewarded with a migraine. There was only one face she knew now. The man. The man who had attacked her and had eyes that she found did not burn, but filled her veins with ice. She began to call him "Ghost" in her mind. It was the way he appeared out of the abyss like a specter coming to haunt her. Always silent. Then when she wasn't looking, he would disappear back into the shadows. When she laid down on the concrete, she could feel the vibration of his footsteps. She began to hope for those vibrations just to fill the presence of silence.

The silence. This was the worst part of it all. At first she grew used to the calm environment it created, but the silence began to get louder. It filled her ears and her mind at a maddening rate. Some days she would sit shouting just to hear the echo of her voice. Something to fill the void. She clawed all the bars and pulled with all her strength. Ghost got in, so how does she get out? She had to get out. She had to escape. Insanity started creeping in and she found herself singing for self-preservation. She sang awfully and sporadically but it filled the desolation in the abyss. Sometimes she would sing random keys, but sometimes a chord struck her. It was as if she had heard it before but it was coming through the static of a radio. Lyrics bound to her tongue that her brain couldn't register.

It had been days, from what she could think, since she last saw Ghost. His absence was well noted, and she almost missed his foreboding presence. Just as she finished that thought, she felt the vibrations that usually meant he was about to visit. The soft padding of combat boots on an experienced assassin trembled against her fingertips.. She remained lying on her back but turned her head to see him materialize from the darkness. She continued to sing the little melody that caught her fancy for the past few sleeps. Ghost never made conversation. He just stood at the edge of the bars and stared at her with chilling blue eyes. She had tried to engage him in some kind of dialogue before, to just to hear another person's voice, but she always just ended up talking to herself. She really was going to end up in the looney bin if she escaped this place.

"How do you know I'm here before I get to the cell?" he asked. Startled she sat up and stared at him. Good lord, she was hearing voices. She had really lost her mind now.

"Excuse me?" she rasped out, just to reassure herself that it was him talking.

"How do you know I am approaching the cell?" he repeated looking annoyed that he would have to reiterate a simple question.

She stared for a bit more before chuckling. "He speaks. And here I was thinking that I dreamt you had spoken." She looked down at the plain cement and placed her palm across the smooth surface. "Your vibrations. I can feel when you step or turn. I can almost feel your breath and heartbeat. The silence does that to you." He squinted his eyes at her in a faux glare and she continued "I always feel it gradually come closer but never sense a door open or close which leads me to believe that this place is a lot bigger than it seems."

He lifted a single eyebrow as though he was impressed. "The superiors have given you a choice." She waited patiently for her options. "You can either stay here for the rest of your life in desolation and deafening silence surrounded by a cage," option one was not looking promising, "or you can learn and train to be a superior human. Become a comrade and sister of Hydra and feel the freedoms you would never feel in this cell." He paused for good measure. "The choice is yours."

"I'm not killer." He looked at her oddly, "Well, I don't think I am. I can't remember with this blasted amnesia." She paused to think deeply about her choice. "If I were to weigh my options, I think I'll pick the latter. Any longer in this hell hole and I'm sure I'll go insane." She looked up into his stare. At least she would have a better chance to escape than in here. Just play along with the insane cult she found herself caught in and leave at the first moment's notice. "Tell that to your so called superiors."

Ghost nodded swiftly and walked away. The girl frowned. 'Well that was no fun. He didn't even say anything to my witty banter.' She laid back on the concrete. 'I bet the only thing he can say is 'yes sir' and anything the 'superiors' of this psycho compound say.' She began to sing the tune from before she was interrupted. She found herself dozing slowly, but right before she succumbed to the darkness, she saw little orbs falling on her from above. The little round particles dancing in the light. 'Odd' was all she could think before her eyes closed for good.

She woke up to the light blinding her. She cracked her eyes open to see the sun angrily glaring back at her. Groaning she flip over on the soft cotton cot and curled up for more sleep. The rays of sunshine warmed her back and she murmured pleased before beginning to doze off again. The sun felt so good. Wait… Flipping over quickly she gaped at the sun. There was a window! Looking around her. There was a table and chair and a shelf! She grasped the cotton sheets below her fingers and rubbed them against her hands. Just the feel of something other than concrete was bliss. Soon she jumped out of the cot and began running her hands over every surface. The grain of the wood was course against her palms and the metal of the chair was smooth. So long without the variation of textures made each new item novel and new. There sat a little old-time clock on her desk and she held it in her hands as it ticked rhythmically. The constant jerk of the hands and cogs shuddered under fingertips releasing a calming sound that washed over her. The consistent sound was sure to help her get over the feeling of silence that consumed her mind. She placed in down careful and continued her journey around the room.

She was touching the glass of the window when she heard a door open behind her. Ghost stood behind her with his hands clasped behind him. She was so absorbed with her new surroundings, she didn't even feel him approaching her room. She turned slowly from the window to face him.

"What are you doing?" he asked harshly.

Her eyebrows furrowed. "You try going weeks with only metal and concrete, and then wake up in a cotton bed. You'd feel everything too."

He solely continued to peer at her underneath his strands of long hair. They stood in an awkward, chilled silence until he moved toward the door. "You're late for training." and walked out. She opened her mouth to retort but only shook her head incredulously before walking out of the door too. Just outside her door was hallways saturated in red light. Pipes and stray cables lined the walls and the hallways continued to part into two separate walkways. This place was a literal maze and her guide was no where to be seen.

"Hello?" she called out in expectation of a response. Nothing. She turned to her right and hoped for the best. She made turn after turn in faith that she would find where she needed to be, but continued to find nothing more than dead-ends and more hallways. Frustrated, she stopped and began to think. She leaned against the wall to try and figure out how to escape this labyrinth when she felt it. The tremor beneath her shoulder. The light bulb quickly went off in her mind and she grasped the pipe with two hands. She waited and waited for anything, and suddenly, she was rewarded. Ghost. She felt the padding of his boots resonate against the metal of the pipe and followed it to the source. The vibrations increased under her sensitive fingertips and soon she was just a corner away. She knew he was there and slowly turned the corner. He stood there looking stern and a bit disappointed.

"Thirty minutes."

She frowned. "I didn't know what you wanted. It's not my fault you put me in this maze without instructions."

His eyebrows furrowed deeper and a sullen look overtook his face. "Hydra doesn't need instructions, they give orders and exterminate the most optimal way possible."

The raven-haired girl sighed. "Well, I did not know. Teach before you test."

He, once again, glared at her (his favorite expression from what she could gather) and walked through the double doors behind them into a gym. The girl shook her head 'What the hell am I doing?' and followed her new mentor.

* * *

A.N. : You know what the hardest thing in the world is? Writing about a person with no name. Seriously. It sucks.


	4. Induction

Chapter Four

Induction

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Inside the large gym was a large boxing ring and mats thrown along the floor. There were weights and pull-up bars. It looked like a regular gym except for the smartly dressed older man standing in the middle of it. A tall man with knowing eyes and wheat hair greeted her. Ghost stood behind him as though he was guarding him against her. She furrowed her eyebrows before turning her attention to the new addition to her brain catalogue.

"Hello." He started politely. She nodded her reply and kept her eyes trained on his. "I see you made it here in one piece and alive. You weren't this lively looking when we found you."

"You found me?" she pondered quizzically.

"Why, yes. Found you in the middle of nowhere nearly freezing to death in the cold. We tried to get you into the warmth but you got scared and attacked the unit on mission. After a struggle, we finally got you into a car and brought you here. Our medics had to give you a mild sedative to calm you down so that may have caused a headache when you woke."

Many things now clicked in her brain. The pounding headache and aching muscles all made sense now. "Why was I in the middle of nowhere?"

The aging man smiled reassuringly to her. "We were hoping you could answer that, but when we asked you, you would spit out gibberish no one understood. Our doctors diagnosed it as traumatic amnesia and said there was a slim chance of you ever recovering your memories. I am sorry for that."

She nodded sadly. She would never know who she was or what she was doing in the middle of nowhere. She would never remember her past and that depressed her even more than the stupid cage she was in earlier. Speaking of which…

"Why did you lock me in a cage?"

"Simple." He began pacing the floor in front of the woman with his hands clasped behind him. "We had to watch and see if you were dangerous. That's why we sent Winter Soldier, our best operative, in there. To see how dangerous you were" He jerked his head behind to Ghost, or well, Winter Soldier apparently. "You know, I lost two men in the struggle to bring you here. One stabbed in the neck. The other in the eye straight to the brain." The girl's stomach dropped. Guilt flooded her veins as she was suddenly unable to keep eye contact with the man pacing in front of her. She _was_ a killer. "Two men unable to see their families again. Many corporations would euthanize the assailant for such a crime, but Hydra is different." He came to a stop directly across from her and grasped her elbows. "We are willing to look past the dead and forgive. I see untapped potential in you and am willing to adopt you with a loving embrace. You can become a sister to us and create a future where there is no past. Become a part of Hydra and try to bring peace to the world. What do you say?" He tipped her bowed head by the chin to reveal her somber caramel eyes. "Join us?"

She nodded a last time with shame hardening in her chest. She had to repay this man. He was showing mercy and giving purpose instead of ending her. She was going to do her best to stand in for the two men who's lives were lost by her hand.

The blonde-haired gentleman smiled at her and murmured his appreciation whilst rubbing her arms fatherly. He began to take his leave but stopped at Winter Soldier's side. "Now, play nice and don't be too rough with her." The stoic man inclined his head sharply in acknowledgement and the old man walked out the back doors.

Ghost looked at her, and she stared back timidly.

"Let's begin."

She laid on one of the mats drenched in sweat and heaving. Her muscles twitched beneath her skin and her eye was tender from where he had right-hooked her. Ghost had not been forgiving and had tested her every limit. He sparred with her whilst barking demands in Russian which made her stop multiple times just to remind him that she didn't understand Russian and him screaming wasn't helping the situation. This only made him attack harder, faster, and yell louder. During their last spar, he had finally burned through the last of her wick to the ticking attitude bomb dwelling on her tongue and she was seeing red. He went to cross punch her and she grabbed his arm and hooked her knee against his leg effectively causing him to tumble forward. She caught his momentum and flipped after him. She landed on his back and hooked her feet into his thighs and grabbed his human arm while digging her thumb into the skin attached to the metal appendage. He was sensitive there and soon huffed painfully under her grasp. She gulped a few breaths before unleashing a river of frustration.

"Okay." She started trying to simmer her anger. "Now that I have your attention, would you _please_ stop with the Russian. I don't know what you're saying and the increasing volume isn't making it any easier. If you want me to learn, then teach me. If this means I have to get beaten half-to-death then so be it. I'm a dead woman walking anyways." He had only scowled at her with his icy gems.

Now as she laid on the mats, Ghost sat on the other end putting ample distance between them. She observed him as he looked away distantly, as though he was planning her execution down to the last strangle. His face, arms, and chest all gleamed with sweat and his shirt was soaked. The tendrils of long brown hair obscured his face and made him look villainous even with his forlorn look. She could see a bruise forming around his clavicle where she had grabbed him trying to subdue the barrage of hits from every direction. Actually, she could see cuts and bruises forming many places. She had gotten a few good hits in today, which surprised the hell out of her.

When he told her they would be sparring she was instantly nervous. She couldn't remember fighting ever in her life. She was going to get eaten alive by the imposing man with an alloy arm. At first, he had circled her and analyzed with meticulous calculation before lunging at her. Caught of guard, she stumbled back and tripped over her own feet. She landed on her backside and silently prayed this wouldn't be the day she woke up in a clinic with a body cast. He gave her a stern look and she promptly rose to her feet. She offset her feet because she felt more balanced and waited for him to strike again. He paced again and suddenly threw a right hook. As she saw the arm lift, her heart rate slowed and it was as if she had been transported to a slow motion movie. The fist slowly propelled toward her face and innately, she curved her hand around his wrist and deflected it before crouching to the left. This caused his arm to continue right and avoid the blow to her face. His knee surged forward toward her crouched body and she blocked with her two hands before she swept his grounded foot from underneath him. He fell toward his back before rolling to his own crouch. His eyebrow arched impressed and the woman stood up in disbelief. Where had that come from? He stood up himself.

"Khorosho." He stated finally.

The raven haired woman glanced at him in confusion. "Wha-?" She never finished before he attacked again. This continued for hours it seemed with him at the upper hand. He was much stronger and faster than her, and wasn't even using his mechanical hand during combat. She couldn't even imagine what a fight was going to be like once that factor was added in. Her weak muscles ached in protest but she could feel herself getting stronger. This was good. This is where she belonged.

The next morning brought nothing but pain. Her arms barely lifted her up to a sitting position as she tried to get out of the cot. Her head rested in her hands and she could already feel the swelling of a bruise on her right eye. She groaned and tried to massage the soreness out of her thighs. Man, this was going to be a lot harder than she thought. As she rubbed the sleep out of her good eye, she looked around her new room and saw something new. On her desk was a bound black book with odd symbols on the front. They looked familiar but she couldn't place it. She grabbed the book with her bruised hands and sat back down on the cot. She flipped to the first page where "Russian to English Dictionary" was spelled boldly on the top. Her face broke into a small smile. This would help immensely and maybe take up extra time when she was bored. She couldn't think that she would get much free time. Maybe Ghost was taking her suggestions into thought and was giving her a way to teach herself. She shook her head. His name is Winter Soldier, not Ghost. There was never a Ghost. She would have to break that habit.

She felt tremors of someone approaching and placed the book delicately beside her. She looked at the door as the Winter Soldier opened it. He stood at the door frame and once finding her gaze, promptly turned around and left. She stood with much protest to her muscles and followed after him. Outside her door was a steel pipe that curved around her oval door to each direction of the hallways. It would be perfect to pin-point which way he went. She laid her hand on it and calmed her breathing and heart rate. The steel vibrated against her pinky telling her to go left; opposite of yesterday. She continued to follow the shudders of the pipe and soon found her way to the man she called mentor.

"Good." He called as he saw her round the corner. "Six minutes, but I could hear your clumsy clunking a mile away." She grimaced. It was never enough for him. "Today you learn stealth. Use your aptitude with senses and navigate a dark building without getting caught. Understood?"

"Ay ay Sergeant Soldier." She called with an ironic salute and made her way through the door behind him. As she stepped into the darkness, she turned around with a "hey". He turned to glance at her. "Thanks for the book."

He solely gave her a blank stare and slammed the door behind her.

"Well never mind then"


	5. The Team

Chapter Five

The Team

* * *

Months had passed since the woman started training at Hydra. She had excelled in everything they had thrown at her and the superiors were pleased with her progress. She was put in a team of four to study and train with, and as the only female in all of the Hydra compound, it was no surprise she was placed in a all male team. Said team consisted of her, Ogma, Rumlow, and Ghost.

Ogma was a large burly man with a wicked smile. He has hands larger than dinner plates and could probably snap your neck easier than breaking a toothpick. He had a morose sense of humor, not very bright, and walked around like he owned the place. His Hydra uniform always made him uncomfortable due to his size so he liked to keep his jacket and Kevlar unzipped and opened at all times. Even fighting. At first, she didn't like him and avoided him at all costs. He had tried to hit on her the very moment he met her but was soon silenced by a look from Rumlow. Now, after much convincing and team-building exercises (namely sparring), he was a valued comrade during crowd fights. He was not the most adept hand-to-hand fighter but used his insane strength to even the score. Not only could he barrel a pathway clear, but he could throw her clear across the room to divide the fight. But, that's always what he would be. A compatriot, not a friend. There was something corrupt behind his eyes that never let her trust him fully.

Rumlow was for her easier to befriend. He resembles Ghost in build; medium height with good muscle mass, but is no where matched in strength. Rumlow is instead entrusted with knives and weapon duty. He's a sharpshooter with formidable agility. The man was always carrying weapons and teased her constantly about Hydra's distrust with her and weapons. After training two days with knives, she was able to take down both Rumlow and Ghost at the same time. The superiors, ever cautious, told her once she was inducted into Hydra she could have all the weapons desired, but for now, no death devices out of the gym. Rumlow continuously cracked snide remarks about it for a full month before she put him on his back cited a promise that he would lose his testicles if he joked about it one more time. He had simply laughed it off and told her to take it easy. That was Rumlow's humor. If he wasn't making fun of you, he didn't like you.

Lastly, there was Ghost. Yes, not Winter Soldier, but Ghost. She had been calling him that for about three months now, since it slipped during double sparring. It was her and him tag teaming against Ogma and Rumlow, and they worked insanely well together. He used her usage of sensory vibrations to allow her to sense his and their enemy's next moves. They flowed together like wind and water and it was no secret that they had synchronicity. Hell, no one in Hydra, even four man teams, would face them without a clear advantage. The only one's stupid enough to face them two-on-two was their other teammates because of their ludicrous manly pride.

They had been sparring with real blows for about ten minutes before she felt her and Ghost's synch dismantle. She usually sparred bare-footed at the gym, but was given engineered thin shoes that amplified the tremors during her third month on the team. She refused to wear the shoes during team spars because she needed to hone her ability, not make it easier. Rumlow, who she was currently facing, and Ghost were around the same weight, so they were the hardest to differentiate when bare-footed. She could usually figure out which belonged to which man by the pattern of their moves, but with Ogma's overbearing footsteps, it was getting harder. She would catch Ghost's foot fall before receiving a kick to the side and realizing too late she had been following Rumlow's the whole time. Frustrated, she tackled Rumlow to the ground and held his arms firmly to the mats. Rumlow was stronger than her so this would only last so long.

"Ghost!" she called without thinking. She had never said that name out loud, and quickly she felt foolish. The Winter Soldier furrowed his eyebrows as she quickly tried to cover up her mistake. "I mean, Winter Soldier, whatever. _идите сюда_. You're out of synch." He nodded and sprinted toward her with Ogma barreling after. Rumlow was slowly overpowering her and she reached out a hand to the Winter Soldier. He grabbed it while running, swung her in the air off Rumlow, and pivoted. While arching around, she extended her leg and nailed Ogma right in the side of face. The poor oaf's eyes rolled to the back of his head as he crumbled to the ground mid-run. Rumlow, recovering from her tackle and now in a low crouch, sighed before sitting back on his butt and putting his hands in the air as a surrender.

"It's not even fair fighting you guys." He joked smiling. "It's like trying to fight a tornado. All you get is backlash."

"Giving up already?" she chided smiling as Ghost put her down gently. "I'm pretty sure you could try to takedown one of us by yourself."

He shook his head and wiped the sweat form his brow. "Hell no. I don't have a death wish." She walked towards him and offered a hand. He gratefully grasped it and rose to his feet. "Not bad, Runt." He complimented as he playful pulled her ponytail. Ah, yes, Runt. An affectionate name they had given her. She didn't particularly like it, but it was the closest thing to a name she had received. Only Ogma and Rumlow used it. The rest of Hydra solely called her "woman", because she was oddly the only one around. Well, all except Ghost. He never called her anything other than "you". The fact that he didn't talk much outside of training probably had something to do with it. The always silent tortured soldier.

The caramel eyed girl punched him playful back. "You need help with Ogma? I don't think he'll be up for awhile." She pointed to the mountain of a man face down on the mats. He was starting to snore which usually meant he was going to be out for at least an hour.

Rumlow huffed lowly before stating that he could do himself, after all he was the loser. He grabbed his partner's arm and dragged him out of the gym towards the dorms. She laughed lightly before turning the Ghost. She smiled and was about to ask if they were done but was interrupted.

"Who's Ghost?" he asked sternly.

The woman could feel the red creeping up her neck to her ears. Usually she was able to keep her cool. The week of interrogation training had helped her discard all her nervous ticks and adopt good ways to keep calm under fire, but for some ungodly reason, she was never able to lie convincingly to him.

"It's nothing." He looked at her skeptically. "Just something stupid I swear. Not worth the explanation."

She started to fidget. Oh god, she was screwing things up. He gave her a stern look before sitting on the mat. He looked directly next to him in a commanding look that meant he wanted her to sit. As every neuron in her brain screamed no, her body listened to his request. She sat silently on the mat, wrapped her arms around her folded legs, and placed her chin on her knees. Maybe this way she wouldn't have to look at him. The gym was eerily quiet, and she never did well with silence after the whole holding cell fiasco. She began to hum one of the songs she liked, the one that sounded like an anthem. Beside her, the Winter Soldier silently leaned back on his hands.

"Tell me." He said almost softly compared to his usually harsh tone. "It can't be that bad." He looked at her, and for the first time, she didn't see murder and hate behind his eyes. She didn't see the pain and vacancy death usually caused. She must have looked shocked, because he turned away to look at the wall.

Recovering, she sighed heavily "Fine." She rubbed her arms to ward off a faux chill. "When I was in the basement, it was so dark and quiet that I would have done anything to talk to someone or do something. I don't know. When you 'visited' it was sort of a relief. You were another human being and the only thing of consistency in that hell hole. You never talked so I sort of just gave you a name. Ghost seemed fitting, since before I could feel the vibrations, you would just appear and disappear. Never saying anything." He didn't move. "I know it's stupid but after so long, it seems I can't fight the habit."

She began to chew her lip. She hated talking about the cage but most of all, revealing something so childish. He would probably make her run laps for such a ridiculous thought. She waited quietly for him to say something whilst rattling with her mind how stupid she was. Ten minutes ticked by on the clock above the door, and agents from other divisions were filing in for their training. She rocked back from her butt to her heels before standing to leave.

"So," she started nervously, "I'm going to go now. I guess I'll see you tonight at the canteen."

She turned toward the door and started to walk back to her room when a hand on her wrist stopped her. She looked back surprised. He had grabbed her and finally looked at her with level eyes. She stopped and waited for him to say something. Anything.

He gazed at her. "I like it." He promptly let go and stood to take his leave. She smiled softly and followed after him. From then on, they had never been closer. They were comrades on a mission, and although she didn't know where he stood on loyalty, she was going to fight to the end with him. She would give her life for her new family, even Ogma.

After that day, he just became Ghost to her, and Rumlow and Ogma never said anything about. They just accepted it just like they accepted her. They never used the name themselves, but also didn't ridicule or make rude and snide remarks about it either. For the first time since she woke up, she was happy.

They had been together for seven months now and still they had not been given a actual mission. To be inducted into Hydra, you had to complete a mission thoroughly and report back with evidence. Ogma, Rumlow, and Ghost had all completed their initiation missions and were full fledge members of Hydra. She was waiting patiently for hers, and rumor around the compound was that it was coming. Soon. Every time one of the superiors wanted to speak with her, butterflies erupted in her stomach and she thought it would finally be time. A month passed and she received no news. She was angry and frustrated with the lack of progression, and soon took it out on her sparring partners. She was ruthless on the mats. Rumlow and Ogma finally saw the savageness of her fury and refused to spar with her, which made her angrier. It was only Ghost that would fight her and he was the best of Hydra. She would continue fighting until she won or physically couldn't stand anymore. This lasted until she broke Ghost's mechanical hand and the superiors realized that it was time.

Four days after the hand-breaking incident, the woman with black hair and caramel eyes rounded the corner to the gym. She no longer needed the pipes to navigate around the maze of Hydra. She hadn't thought about this before, how did people without her sensitive touch maneuver around? There were no signs pointing to the bathrooms, canteen, or gym. This place was one big floating enigma of hallways. Mulling it over, she entered the gym to find all the superiors and team members standing in a line to greet her. She froze and looked at each warily. They all smiled a pleasant superior smile and the golden–haired man she met during her first day as a trainee stepped forward.

"Child" he stated proudly. "You have proven yourself in the ring and within your team. The council and I believe it is time. Time for you to join your brothers." He continued to smile and her team, well Ogma and Rumlow, smiled smugly with approval within their eyes as they stood behind the leaders of Hydra. Ghost stood among them as well, but wore his full mask so she couldn't see his face. She wanted to believe he was looking at her with pride, but she knew he was probably just as aloof as usual. She drew her attention back to the older gentleman who was now politely asking the man beside him for the mission file. Receiving it, he paced toward the only woman in the room. Her heart beat wildly in her ribcage as she excitedly stared at the yellow folder in her superior's hand. This couldn't be happening. Days she had dreamed about this and it was finally happening. With shaking hands, she deftly clamped her hands around the folder as if it was her lifeline. The man placed a warm hand on her shoulder. "Make us proud."

She nodded enthusiastically.

He smiled once more and gently cupped her cheek in his hand. "Hail Hydra, my daughter."

She smiled widely.

"Hail Hydra."

* * *

Thank you to all those who favorited, followed, and reviewed. It keeps me sane :)


	6. Overt to Covert

Chapter Six

Overt to Covert

* * *

Planes. She now knew she hated planes. The big barreled death machine floating in the sky. She closed her eyes and thought of her little clock in her room and the rhythmic ticking it made. It was the only thing distracting her from throwing up as bile concentrated behind her lungs. It also didn't help that the butterflies in her stomach were flying like maniacs and making her even sicker with nervousness. Ogma laughed at the petite woman and leaned back against the body of the flying machine. He had been laughing at her miserable face since they took off. They had been flying for an hour now in the largest, most conspicuous plane ever created. The engines on the wings were two times her size in diameter and held on with a tiny little piece of metal. She knew that any moment now, one was going to snap off and ram into the side of the monstrosity. She groaned and waited the rest of the flight with a promise to never ever get on a plane again after this mission.

When the plane finally landed and left her and her team at a airport base on the outskirts of the city, she stood and smelled the air around. It was so fresh compared to the stale, fear saturated air within the plane. She felt revitalized just by gulping the air by the lungful. Her team had let her rediscover the outside for about a minute before pushing her towards a van. Rumlow opened the passenger side for her and winked.

"You'll want a front row seat for this."

She grinned and climbed in. Ghost and Ogma clamored to the back whilst Rumlow sat in the front seat to drive. He was the most experienced driver because when he wasn't training with the team, he was working an under-cover mission. He had been on this mission for a year now infiltrating the American government and working with the leader to slowly convert the enemy into an alliance. She missed him on those days but knew he was doing it for the family.

As they cruised through the lit city of downtown D.C. she gripped the side armrest until her knuckles were white. It was all she could do from not pressing her face to the window. There was life out there. People were walking and talking, going about their night, having fun, and just living. They had no idea what was going on and there was so many. So many bodies moving and gliding around in linear patterns. Next were the noises. Oh, the noises. The cacophony of sounds filled her ears and mind with the most beautiful mess of bliss. The cars honking, people laughing, sirens, and general sound of life created a energetic song that permeated her entire being. She was enraptured by the city.

"Amazing, isn't it?" Rumlow said from her side.

All she could muster was a soft "yeah" before continuing to watch the light show outside her window.

"You haven't even seen the best part." Ogma rasped from the back. "Wait 'til you go to your first bar. And the gentlemen's club…" he whistled forlornly.

She looked back disgusted and proceeded to ignore him.

"Shut up, Ogma." Rumlow replied for her. "We're here on a mission, not to catch tail."

Ogma grunted a laugh. "Doesn't mean we can't do both." The woman rolled her eyes and waited for her stop. The van went on for five minutes turning down the different veins of the city before stopping behind a large residential building.

"Okay. Here's your stop." Rumlow looked up at the top of the building. "The target's in the penthouse at the top. There are two armed guards at his door and multiple cams inside. Get in, get out. Remember to bring the evidence to the rendezvous spot, leave no one alive, and don't get caught. Last of all, do not jeopardize Hydra." She nodded. They had gotten rid of the cyanide tooth in the seventies and instead implanted chips under the skin that would stop her heart if she pushed a distress button and said the individual and private password.

"I'm ready."

The boys all turned to her with different expressions. Ogma with his wicked smile, Rumlow with his encouraging look, and lastly, Ghost with a slight nod that could only mean that she was ready. She gave one more nervous huff before sliding out of the van into the shadows. The boys drove off, leaving her alone for the first time since she came to Hydra. Sure, she was 'alone' in her room, but there were cameras everywhere that watched her every move. This was true freedom.

She made her way into the building using a decrypter on the back electronic lock. Simple enough. She had to figure a way to get to the top floor without being seen by security or cameras. This was going to be hard with her head to toe black suit. She stuck out like a sore thumb in the swanky complex. Well, the best way to hide is hide in plain site. She slipped through the first hall, and being the ground floor, which usually the meant to lowest condo prices, there were fewer cameras to avoid. Turning to the first apartment she shed of her glove and placed it on the door. Nothing. No one was inside. No heartbeats or breath. She used the small decrypter once more on the door and hoped a woman lived here.

Slinking around the gaudy apartment of what appeared to be a dancer's home, she padded to the bedroom that was garishly decorated in gold and leopard print. The woman shuddered in the sheer tackiness and continued on. The walk-in closet was to her right and she slowly stepped inside of what seemed to be a porn stars wonderland. She stepped backwards stunned and silently stared. Oh, god. How could someone own so many cheetah print blouses and whips. Shaking the surprise off, she ducked her head to find anything _normal_ for her to wear.

In the end, she found a pair of white long pants and a button down white shirt. She swapped her thin shoes for some cheetah print heels and lastly fitted a tan furry vest on top to hide some of her facial features. From what she saw driving around the city, this was close enough to current fashion. She looked at herself in the mirror and almost gagged. _Do it for the mission_ a hollow chant echoed within her mind. The final item she took as an oversized brown Prada that she put shoes and weapons in. The rest of her clothes fit snuggly under her ostentatious disguise. Letting her hair down from her ponytail, she exited the apartment and sauntered down the hall toward the lobby.

Thankfully, some of the late-night partyers were entering the condos, so she quietly joined their group and blended right into their drunken stumbling. They entered the elevators and one of the more sober young adults pushed floor ninety-six. One level below the floor she wanted. She waited in the back of elevator as the girls in their overpriced daddy's credit card dresses continued dancing in the elevator and cheering over nothing but their own drunkenness. The boys of the group were practically screaming over each other to relay the 'hottest piece of ass's ' they got that night and continuously one-upping each other. The raven-haired woman stood in utter amazement and muttered she would never understand rich young society. The elevator seemed to crawl up the floors until she thought she would go insane, and when they finally got to the intoxicated messes' floor, she practically pushed them out.

She huffed an aggravated sigh as she mashed the button for one more floor up. She began to strip off the pretentious clothing as the elevator climbed slowly. Grabbing her shoes and weapons from the purse, she slipped them on and grabbed all the borrowed clothing placing it inside expensive leather bag. The lights in the hallways were motion detected so the residents would not have to deal with the hallway lights all night. This made it all the more easier for her. She slid from the elevator with the bag in hand. She needed to get to the back hallway opposite from the elevator without being seen. The elevator closed, taking with it any light in the hallway. She sat in the dark and let her eyes adjust to the absence. The cameras attached to the ceilings were so obvious, it almost wasn't a challenge as she skirted by each.

Room 932. The room right under her target. She placed the decrypter on the electronic key pad and waited for the lock to pop open. The satisfying sound took two seconds and she walked into the apartment. Crouching, she placed one hand on the wall and the other on the ground. Waves rolled down the plaster rhythmically into her digits meaning that whoever was above her was snoring, loudly. A smile flushed to her face before she crept to the balcony. She carefully unlocked the door before stepping out into the breezy outside. She nearly stopped in amazement. In front of her looked like a blanket of stars covering the city. Every light twinkling to its own beat. It was a breath-taking sight that she had never even dreamed of seeing before. She felt like a bird flying above the stars. Shaking her head, she brought herself into reality and grabbed the grapple. Aiming it to the balcony above she climbed up to the next floor and prepared herself.

This was it. It was time to take what was hers and join the family. She got out her steel knife and silently slinked to the sliding door. She once again paused with her hand to the glass and waited. Two signatures, one a male who was snoring dreadfully, and the other a female. Reaching for the handle, she realized that the door wasn't even locked. _Easy._ She entered the penthouse to find herself in the living room. The bedroom was to her right and the raucous snoring amplified. She scouted the room for cameras and only saw two. She pulled out a high frequency jammer and clipped it to her pants. This device sent a sound that only the cameras could pick up and would override the main controls to reboot the cameras. To anyone else it would seem like there was a small power outage and give her ten seconds to get into the bedroom without being seen. She readied herself and pushed the button. She quietly raced across the room to the open door and slid in. Just enough time.

Looking around the spacious bedroom she noticed first the bodies lying on the bed. Their chests rhythmically rising and falling. They were deep into REM sleep. She could probably move around the room without being caught. She looked around and didn't find any cameras. Apparently the guards weren't voyeurists. She went in the large marble bathroom looking for some kind of evidence that signified the mission was completed. She ventured into the closet where she found a safe, and smiled before cracking it in two seconds.

Inside was a nine millimeter in mint condition. Evidently, her target had the need for a gun. What purpose? She didn't care to find out. There were a few stacks of money but Hydra didn't need money. They were funded by the leaders and supporters. She rifled around before looking at the back of the safe closely. There was a small hole in the back where there shouldn't be in a Man Safe 2018. These safes are top of the line and solid. There was no way it would have a hole that could endanger the integrity of security. Taking a bobby pin from her hair, she stuck one of the bubbled ends in the hole. The back end popped loose and she knew she hit the jack pot.

The metal sheet collapsed in her hand and behind lay a single folder with an eagle-like emblem. Curious, she grabbed it and opened the pages to reveal plans for what seemed to be a missile armory in Morocco. Interesting indeed. She reattached the metal backboard and swiped the gun. It could come in handy. In fact…

She grabbed a towel from the basket by the stand-alone shower and glided into the bedroom, gun and towel in one hand and the yellow folder in the other. She rounded around the side of the bed with the woman. The tan mistress was completely naked with her fire-engine red hair splayed in every direction. Tattoos traversed down her shoulder to the top of her hip. Within her hand was a rolled dollar bill with the reminisce of white powder on the end. Disgusted, the raven-haired woman wrapped the towel around the nine millimeter to muffle the shot to the prostitutes head. Rule one: no one left behind. This was not a mantra about teamwork, it meant you were to leave no witnesses and no one alive. Those guilty of association were to be put down. The shot was clean and precise. Like she trained. The man beside her flinched within his sleep but never woke. The woman felt a roguish smile begin to form on her lips. She sauntered to the round-bellied man blissfully asleep. His nose coated with the ivory evidence of his high and hair matted in the sweat of sex.

She laid the folder on the side table and prepared for the last shot. Before she took it, she paused. He slept on the left side of the bed, had all his products on the left side of his vanity, and the muscles in his left hand more pronounced. Huh. Left-handed. Old wives' tales say that people who were left handed were suppose to have more luck than the average person. Well, guess his luck ran out. She pointed the gun to the left of his temple and pulled the trigger.

The force of a bullet at such a close range ricocheted blood over her entire body and the folder beside her. So much blood. She took a moment gauge how she felt about what she just did. She searched deep within her soul for any guilt. Anything at all. Finding nothing, she placed the gun in the targets left hand and disappeared from the room with the folder. No one would know she was ever there. With all the drugs in the apartment and the prostitute, it would never hit media. It would never be traced back to Hydra, as the enemy tried to patch together an umbrella cover story. She had covered her tracks and left no one behind. She had done Hydra proud.

The men of the team waited at the truck in an alley. The backdoors thrown open as they sat on the bumper waiting either for their sister or a phone call. Rumlow silently hoped it wouldn't be the phone call. He had actually enjoyed Runt's presence and wit. Plus, she had one mean tackle that he had been the victim of one too many times. The poor girl had it rough and he hoped they would be celebrating a victory, not a travesty.

Ogma had been complaining for the past half hour that they were wasting time when they could be out drinking. Rumlow liked the guy as a partner but he sure could be a pain in the ass. He usually just ignored the large man but as anxious as he was currently, he felt like socking the guy. Rumlow turned to the last person in their team. Winter Soldier had not said a thing since Runt had left on her mission, and believe it or not, the usual statuesque warrior looked uneasy. He had seen the partnership of the two blossom in front of his own eyes. Her flexible litheness contrasting against his merciless strength made a team so strong that Rumlow feared the day they would realize their full potential. Together, they would be unstoppable.

Turning back to his own thoughts he monitored the alleyway. Couples and homeless people walked by periodically, but none were the person they wanted to see. He was beginning to worry and fidget. Suddenly, a woman in solid white and a horrid vest turned down the alleyway, strolling leisurely in large printed heels. Ogma made a low whistle. Rumlow was about to turn and stop him from harassing the woman who was probably lost, when Winter Soldier stood and met the woman about five feet from the van. Confused, Rumlow looked closely at the woman's face. Sure enough, Runt's bright eyes met his.

"Well, I'll be damned."

Winter Soldier scanned her closely and when he detected nothing wrong, he spoke lowly.

"Миссия завершена?" _Mission complete?_

She smiled widely and pressed a warm hand to his fleshed arm before passing him to meet the other two. She rummaged around in the ridiculous, huge purse at her side and pulled out a folder.

"You miss me?" she batted her eyes playfully. She handed Rumlow the folder and he peered inside. She had done well. Satisfied, he placed it beside him. He leaned back and took her whole outfit in.

"Nice get up."

Mocking an offended glare she replied "You try going down the street in head to toe black spanks and see what happens. Though it would have been ten times easier than walking these monstrosities called heels." Rumlow and Ogma laughed low into their bellies. Shaking his head, Rumlow closed the back doors and headed to the driver's seat with Ogma behind him. The woman started for the other side before Ghost stopped her with a hand to her shoulder. The heat radiating from his flesh warmed her instantly. He reached up and swiped a finger against her cheek. As it left her face, she saw dried blood staining his finger.

"You missed a spot."

His voice was so low it was almost inaudible. She looked into his pain-stricken eyes and smiled softly.

"Thanks."

He nodded and quickly entered the van. She followed behind and climbed into the passenger side. As they drove through the city emblazoned with light, she sighed contented and fell asleep to the music of the city.

* * *

AN: Hello all

Okay I have some bad news. It may be awhile until my next post. I'm currently graduating from college this Saturday and I haven't even started writing the next chapter. There's a lot of planning in the next few chapters and it's going to be a rollercoaster. I promise I'm not abandoning ship.

Anyways, thank you to all who favorited, followed and reviewed. It means the absolute world to me.


	7. Mara

Chapter Seven

Mara

* * *

"This is stupid" a woman called with her arms crossed. She was tapping her foot incessantly in aggravation. Her vision completely black and the cloth around her eyes chaffing her ears. Whatever crude rag they were using, it seemed to be made of the most irritating fiber ever created.

"Mara, it's not stupid." the male countered, "It's training. Your adaptation to vibration is getting better but we need you to excel at a faster rate." The man circled around her. His form was rim-rod straight and full of conviction.

If she wasn't blindfolded she would have rolled her eyes but there was no point if he wasn't going to see it. This new form of training was requested by the superiors because the missions the team was currently completing had begun the new conversion. Hydra was going to resurface and bring in a new world for everyone to live peacefully in. They had started taking out targets regularly now that she had completed her initiation mission and received her name.

When she returned from the capital, the leaders had been extremely pleased with her execution. They granted Ghost, Ogma, Rumlow, and herself a team name. Valkyrie. A name she had grown to enjoy saying ironically and jokingly. They had also granted her a name because apparently 'woman' wasn't official enough to put on mission reports. The superiors had tossed around names for a few hours with Ogma and Rumlow throwing in 'Runt' and 'Pip-squeak' repeatedly. Arguments between two ridiculous names like Death Mistress and Medusa started getting heated, when finally, Ghost, her savior in all black, lowly muttered Mara as a suggestion. She had loved it as soon as it rolled off his tongue. The superiors had approved it too, muttering something about goddesses and death, and that was that. She had been Mara ever since, completing all of her missions with excellence and efficiency, making the name proud.

As of late though, Ghost had not been apart of the missions because he was an invaluable and apparently expensive secret weapon to Hydra, so she had been on a few with just Rumlow and Ogma. Sometimes Rumlow was called to his main mission of infiltration so it was just her and Ogma. Those are the ones Mara disliked the most. Ogma still looked at her with greedy black eyes that always stared. He wasn't especially bright either. He had almost cost them two mission by his incompetence. First by "accidentally" setting the target's house on fire. Second, he had alerted the security of the Yemen ambassador by falling out of a third story window. She had to do some major crowd control that time and slowly take down wave after wave of guards. Thankfully, she had cut the power lines and jammed cell signal before the idiot made his presence known. She completed her mission with two bullet wounds to the leg and shoulder and an unconscious Ogma. When she returned to the rendezvous spot for pick up, she was given medical attention and patched up to working condition. Of course, as soon as Mara arrived back to the compound, she was debriefed and the ever present Ghost surveyed her. He grasped her shoulders as usual and she flinched as he put pressure on the wound just stitched. He pulled back his hand seeing blood stain the metal. Fury surged to eyes, his most expressive feature. She thought he was angry with her and cringed backward. She was surprised when he rounded around and knocked Ogma out once again with a punch straight to the temple. Wide-eyed, Mara stared as Ghost nodded at her and left.

The next day, she was redressing her shoulder wound, when Mara felt Ghost approaching her door. She scrambled to cover the ugly scar, the red angry mark that marred her once smooth skin. She was only able to wrap herself with a blanket from her cot as he entered her quarters with out knocking, as usual. He was the only one she would allow to do such a thing and now she suddenly regretted permitting him to. She looked to the floor in shame as she stood before him in just pants and a blanket wrapped around her torso. He furrowed his eyes in bewilderment because this raven-haired killer had never been shy about her body. They were humans and a breast was just anatomy and a kill point for them. They didn't perceive sexuality.

He stepped forward as she silently stepped back from him, unwilling to show Ghost that her porcelain had turned to raw, molten flesh. She was no longer a blank canvas void of accidents and vulnerability, instead her mistakes showed violently against her pale dermis. When she could back up no longer, she waited with lowered eyes and baited breath as he approached. Silently, he gently tugged the blanket below her shoulder where the stitched bullet wound puckered against the skin. She watched as he ran a soft fleshed thumb against the risen skin.

"Does it hurt?" He asked lowly.

"Not as much as my pride." She joked meekly, trying to keep the beating of her heart from escaping her chest.

He looked sternly into her eyes. His mouth a simple straight line that forever made her stomach tumble around in somersaults. "Never be ashamed of your scars." Ghost replaced the blanket around her shoulder and lifted his own shirt for her to see the map of scars down his torso. Sure, Mara had seen her mentor without a shirt during training, but never this close and still. He took her free hand and brought it to a matching scar near his left rib. "They are daily reminders that we did not die and that we completed our mission. They signal victory."

Ever since then, she had worn every scar and blemish with pride. Wearing tank tops or simply just a sport bra no longer fazed her. Even now as she stood in a completely dark room with a pointless blindfold on.

She listened to Ghost's footfalls circle rhythmical around her. Their steady thumps against the concrete creating a sort of soothing sound. She continued to listen until she couldn't hear him anymore. Confused, she placed her feet firmer around the floor. She was not allowed to use her hands and her feet were more sensitive anyways. She felt around for a pulse or tremor that echoed his specific heartbeat and found nothing. Impossible. He was five feet behind her right shoulder just seconds ago. She concentrated harder, realizing there had to be a mistake. She took two steps backward where she last felt him and found nothing. Panic started to fill her veins as started to believe she had lost her gift. She felt around her and grasped what seemed like a bar and threw it as far as she could. She waited. The sharp staccato of the bar hitting the concrete shuddered against the flat skin of her soles. She let out a breath relieved it wasn't her.

She clenched her jaw in concentration. Ghost was taking his name a little more serious than she intended. She called out for him and received no return. She groaned frustrated and not getting the riddle, she just sat on the ground. Sure it was childish but she didn't want to play his game. Suddenly, she received a hit to the back of the head with Ghost's metal hand. Ow! What the hell? She rotated with her hands outstretched to feel the open air. What the actual hell was happening? She stood up once more and earned another hit to the back of the head. She pivoted sharply to grab for the hand. Nothing. Now ill tempered, she silently waited and calmed her enraged breathing. He wanted her to focus. Fine, she would focus.

She began feeling everything she could from the concrete beneath her feet to the air that touched her skin. Her flesh erupted with goose bumps as her awareness of the temperature spiked. Slowing her heartbeat, she quieted the roaring in her ears. Finally, she felt a turn in the air flow. Something so minuscule, she almost didn't trust it. She thrust her hand towards the change and hoped for the best. Mara was rewarded with a metal hand to capture. She pulled with all her might to the ground and earned a body slamming to the floor. She quickly set herself on top and restrained her mentor. Grinning, she took off the blindfold. All around them in the dark were hanging bars about five feet above her head. He was above her the whole time. She had never had to feel for something floating. Vibrations were weak when traveling long distances so there would have been nothing indicating him trapezing above her head. He was already silent, this aerial advantage made him practically invisible to her. She let go of his arm and helped him up.

"Aerial?" She was confused by this new form of training. "Are we fighting acrobatic assassins?"

His lifted an eyebrow giving an expression that was about as amused as the Winter Soldier got. "We never know what we're going to be faced with. The superiors want you prepared for anything." He grabbed one of the bars and hoisted himself up. She followed suit and relaxed to the swinging her momentum caused. "Your tuned sense of vibration is extra-human but I thought that you could grow accustomed to waves such as wind and water. Call it a hunch but it worked."

She nodded thoughtfully and leaned against the chains. She liked that he talked more although it was only a few added sentences. His dark, deep voice was tranquilizing. The fact that he solely talked to her was even more of a plus. It made her feel special and cared for, even by the foreboding, menacing Winter Soldier. She looked at him now. His strong jaw always clenched as if prepared to attack and his unshaven face. She always wanted to touch it, just to feel the rough coarseness underneath her sensitive fingertips. She would never do such a thing. Romance or even lust was not permitted in Hydra. It protected the company from inter familial fights and arguments. Agents went in with clear minds to a mission and meaningless relationship quarrels sure did ruddy that up, especially if you worked with them.

They swung silently for a few moments enjoying each other's presence while Mara hummed one of her songs. As she began to doze off, the doors to the room opened to reveal the leader. Ghost slipped off bars silently coming to a still stance. His muscles coiled and stiff, all traces of the relaxed man gone. She remained sitting on the trapeze smiling widely down at the leader.

"I thought this was a training room not a playground." he teased grinning. He looked to Ghost before telling him to be at ease. Ghost remained in his hardened stance. Mara had always wondered why but just assumed it was out of respect. She jumped from the bar and landed before the leader.

"Father." She called with lowered eyes.

"Hello, child." He came to stand in front of her with a folder in his hand. "I have a new mission for you. All of you. Rumlow included." Mara smiled harder. It had been months since they had worked together as Valkyrie. She was starting to miss the camaraderie. "It's an important mission with multiple targets. I need you all to do the best you have ever done. All information is in the briefing folder here." He handed the papers to Ghost, their team leader. Mara stood next to him as he rifled through the papers, peeking over his broad shoulder. Six targets in one government building. Nice. She felt the excitement bubble in her stomach like it usually did before a new mission. The leader nodded his head and bid them farewell and an echoing "Hail Hydra".

* * *

"Team Valkyrie, do you copy?" Rumlow's deep voice echoing through the ear piece. Mara pressed the button on her earpiece to reply.

"Mara and Winter Soldier copying from back door location."

"Ogma at side location."

All were accounted for. Mara continued, "Permission to activate jammer?"

Rumlow acting as principle plan keeper had control of the operation. She and Ghost had infiltration and disarming duty. Ogma's pounding feet were too loud for such a job and this was a delicate situation, so he had straggler duty for anyone who ran and escaped their grasp.

"Affirmative Mara. Let 'er rip."

Mara smiled fondly and placed the jammer on the outside of the large white neoclassical building. The tiny black box was the best in the business and long range. The only signal entering and exiting its width would be their own. Mara looked to Ghost one final time before pushing the back door open. He trailed behind closely laying one hand on her back as they crouched through the hall. Feeling the tremors around the corner, two guards stood at attention facing the main lobby. The woman signaled behind her and slinked to the guard on the left while the stoic man slid to the right. He nodded a three count and they took down their prey. No weapons. Just one hand covering the mouth and another snapping the neck. Blood is an easy smell to recognize and equally as messy. The more inconspicuous they could be, the better. They continued this silent take down on the lower floor. Never breaking stride with her, Ghost was as paramount as always. He never hesitated and was quicker than lightning. This is why she loved working with him the most. There was no nonsense in his tactics, no second thought. It helped her remain focused.

"First floor clear." Mara spoke into the earpiece.

"Come on, Runt." Ogma groaned from his side. "Let us have some fun."

Mara laughed quietly before heading up the staircase behind Ghost. Stopping at the door, he let her pass. She placed her hand against the door.

"Seven signatures. Two by the door and five at the end of the hall. I can't feel much farther than that." Ghost nodded pulled a disk from one of his back pouches. The blue ring surged with electricity as he slipped it beneath the door. The device discharged and Mara opened the door quickly to catch the fallen guards before they hit the door. She dragged them into the staircase, away from seeing eyes. Pulling his silenced pistol from the holster, Ghost led the way. She followed suit and crouched behind the corner, waiting for his signal. He nodded and they started shoot. The guards tried to lift their assault rifles in time but were taken down by the precise bullets of the duo. Five bodies slumped to the ground in a heap.

Mara palmed the wall. Two targets on this floor. Both in separate adjacent rooms. She nodded toward the large white door to her right and started opening the large wooden door to her left. Lying in a large four poster bed was the target. An aged man with graying hair. His thin athletic form showed that even in his older age he took great care of himself. Although health would not be the reason why, he would die tonight, all his work in vain. She lined her gun to his temple and waited for her mark. Ghost never had to radio her. She always knew when he was about to shoot or his plan of action. His body sent her signals that only she could receive and this made them a truly silent pair. Mara tapped into the heartbeat she would never mistake and waited for it to slow.

Ghost always concentrated before taking the shot, as though he didn't trust himself to hit his target. He always did. Rumlow and Ghost always had competitions with their sharpshooting but for Ghost, it wasn't even a challenge. He was good. Really good. Mara liked to think to think that maybe he was meant for long distance battles, not this savage, brutal intimate fighting he specialized in.

She waited. Then, she felt it. The focused attention that slowed his heartbeat and when she felt it skip, she pulled her own trigger. The shot was just as meticulous as the others. Exiting the room, she met the Winter soldier outside his room and glanced at his eyes. The same concentration and determination superficially shown, but beneath the sad, morose Ghost hid. She tried to give an encouraging smile but he turned away to the next floor.

"Last floor." She called through to Rumlow.

As they headed through the hallway to the door, it opened suddenly as a guard looked around the corner. The guard made eye contact with her and immediately knew they were in danger. He turned around quickly, narrowly missing the shot to his head unloaded by Ghost's gun. Ghost rounded on her accusingly, but she raised her hands defensively. She hadn't felt him coming. Her partner huffed and starting running towards the door.

"Rumlow." She spoke.

"Copy."

"We've been compromised. Watch all exits, they may try to escape." She took the stairs by threes trying to keep up with her mentor.

"I've got a sniper rifle that says they won't."

She next reached for Ogma. "Ogma, they might be heading your way."

" 'Bout time! I was getting bored." She plowed through the third floor door. Sliding on her knees ,she took out the guard trying to attack Ghost. The man went down quickly and Ghost continued walking down the carpeted path. There were six rooms on either side. This meant the targets were in four of them. She placed her hand against the wall.

"The last four rooms"

He looked at her, hesitance in his iced eyes. "Are you sure?"

She grimaced as his distrust and nodded. "I'm positive." She had messed up once and she wasn't going to let it happen again. The icy fangs of failure were latched to her heart and she felt a sense of determination like no other overcome her. She charged to the door on her right and kicked it down with a scream. Unleashing her ammo on the guards inside, she managed to take down the front three guards. Two left. She grabbed the barrel of their assault rifles and pulled the two to their stomachs. There was no mercy in her assault. She took one of the guns and whipped it savagely against the skull of one. The other reached for a knife but she grabbed his wrist. He stared fearfully into her caramel eyes as she broke the brittle bones. He screamed in agony as she swiped the knife from the broken hand and slit his throat before he could catch his breath.

Standing, she looked to her target. A short man huddled in the corner. He backed his body into the crevice as much as he could, trying to escape her glare. He trembled pathetically and whimpered.

"What do you want?" He cried as she sauntered over to him like a powerful jungle cat to her prey. "I'll give you anything. Money! Power! Information! Anything!"

A rueful smirk played daintily over her face. "Anything?"

Hope entered the man's eyes. "Yes! Anything at all!"

Mara pointed her gun to the man forehead and she saw all the color drain from his face. "Hmmm." She rested her fist against her hip in mock contemplation. "How about your life?" She pressed a finger to the trigger and watched the life end before her eyes. Blood lust consuming her fully. She turned back to Ghost who watched her silently. She put her gun in her hoister and leaned against the door frame.

"You want to do the next one or do you want me to do all the work." Her sardonic tone saturated the air and Ghost could tell she was angry at him.

He clasped her neck gently and looked in her eyes. "I don't blame you. Мне очень жаль."

She sighed and rolled her eyes. "Fine, I'll forgive you for now." She walked to the next door. "Help me with this? I think I gave myself a Charlie horse with the last one." She rubbed her thigh as he raised an amused eyebrow and punched his metal hand through the door. "That's effective." she commented as they pushed through and took down all inside.

This continued systematically until they reached the last door with the final target. "Last one." Mara said to Rumlow outside. "How is it on the outside?"

"A few guards on the run. Ogma and I got all. No back up, so the jammer must have worked."

"Okay. Let's bring it home boys." She ended transmission. This was it. The adrenaline coursed through her heart and the erratic heartbeats of the scared humans inside the last room just emphasized her lust for their deaths even more. She looked to Ghost one last time and fired a shot through the lock. Sensing the coming onslaught, she pushed both Ghost and herself away from the door as bullets shattered its frame. The petrified beings were just stalling the inevitable. Mara pulled out her own mask that mirrored Ghost's and put it on as she grabbed a small ball from her back pouch. Pressing the small button on top, she rolled it into the last room. Chaos and panic ensued as the smoke filled the room. Ghost nodded one last time before entering the fray. Her senses would have to do most of the work here. The smoke was a disadvantage for both the guards, target, and Ghost. She was the only one who could navigate through the haze. Feeling everything around her, she took out anything that went after him, disarming all within the room. He let her feel his powerful movements and adjust accordingly. He was so lethal and fast that she rarely had to worry about his side of the room. Finally, after many broken bones and slit throats, she dragged the target from the room into the hallway as her partner finished the rest. The man grasped his glasses in his hand and coughed violently. His lungs were seared by the smoke and he fetaled pathetically in front of her.

She bent down on one knee and rubbed the man's arm. She ripped off her mask and shushed him motherly before telling him to sit up. He did so with confusion staining his features.

"Are you going to spare me?" His eyes held so much optimism she almost laughed.

"Call it your lucky day. I'm feeling generous." She stood. A long shadow of dread covered the poor mans face and with a vicious grin she said one last thing.

"Run."

The man scurried as fast as his legs could carry him. She grabbed her earpiece and radioed to her teammate. "Ogma."

"Ya?"

" I've got a present heading your way. Dispose of him the way you see most fit."

Ogma's cruel laughter filled her ears. "With pleasure."

* * *

Mara entered the room to find Ghost standing in the middle of the piles of bodies and the smoke finally rising. He looked darkly at her and stopped her in her tracks. The blood running from his arm, trapped within the metal crevices. His hair matted in the sweat of their victory. He had never look so dangerous or attractive in his life. He looked stunning. Mara began to feel an overwhelming feeling of magma run through her body. A pressure in her chest she couldn't control. Everything biologically told her to pursue him like opposite magnetic poles. He was lethal, powerful, and a silent leader. She doesn't remember how she came to be in front of him, all she knew was she had to get his mask off. She needed to see that straight line of his lips and the coarse whiskers gracing his face. She ripped off the mask and threw it behind her.

His features never flinched, never moved. This close she could see the confusion in the blue eyes like ice. She was just as confused as he was. All she knew is she needed him. Like air in her lungs. Like blood in her veins. She needed him. Without thinking, she grasped his vest and pulled him towards her, capturing his lips in a fierce kiss. There was nothing gentle about it. This was filled with want and need too feral for simple pecks. She wrapped his neck within her hands and released the pent-up frustration. His jugular pounded boldly against her hand. It's rhythmic beating so intimate against her perceptive touch. She didn't know how long she was pressed against him until his own heartbeat started to race against hers. She snapped out of her lust-driven haze and separated herself from him.

Giving a four foot berth between them, her mind began to reel at what she had just done. She had broken a rule of Hydra and an important one at that. Her eyes looked fearfully to her mentor and she began to back-up. Ghost never broke the rules. He followed them down to the most meticulous tee. She was going to be punished and her muscles trembled with trepidation. He began to approach her and she tried to back up further.

"No."she cried softly. "I- I didn't mean to." He treaded closer. "I wasn't thinking. I-"

He was a breath away. His fierce blue eyes glaring down. She waited for her discipline with a still traitorous heart. He clasped her neck within his fleshed hand and did something that surprised them both.

He kissed her back.

* * *

A.N. I'm backkkkkk. Geez, this chapter was a doozy and I apologize ahead of time. I got crazy with the commas. So this was my first time ever writing anything like this so be kind. As always, thank you so much for the reviews, favorites, and follows, especially repeat reviewers. I love having feedback. It keeps me focused!

Im going to warn you the next chapter is a bit rough and will contain sensitive scenarios. It was hard for me to write but it had to be done.

Once again, thank you everyone.


	8. Partner

Chapter Eight

Partners

* * *

A week had passed since their last mission, and the two partners acted as though nothing had occurred. They both sparred and ate together with their teammates. Still practiced their skills with weapons and tactics. Nothing changed except for the little things Mara noticed. Sometimes they would hold hands for too long when helping each other up. Press too closely together when sitting. A hand too fond. A look too long. She was becoming paranoid. The compound was filled with eyes and little birds that would joyfully turn the two in for fraternizing, if this is what you could call it. Ghost had nothing to fear. He was Hydra's prized bull and they would never get rid of their greatest asset. She on the other hand would be dealt with accordingly. She wasn't special, she could be replaced, and that's what scared her the most. This was her family and the only one she had in this large messed up world. Two weeks after, she began ostracizing herself and avoiding Ghost and her teammates. She opted to train by herself or new people claiming that she needed a new set of opponents to keep her honed.

She buried herself in work and started taking solo missions. Afghanistan, Mongolia, Uruguay. As far as she could possibly go. The superiors, surprised by her sudden fascination in international affairs, sent her on as many missions as they could. She would be gone weeks at a time and only stop at Hydra to sleep overnight before leaving the next morning. She was running ragged but refused to let others see. Rumlow stopped by her room and left her notes. Just how he missed her and wondering why she was on so many missions. She always left him one in return, making an excuse as usual. She nodded to Ogma in the hallways as she usually departed. Ghost. She all together avoided him. She always traveled down the hallways wary of his heartbeat. The consistent drumming she knew by memory. She was so in tune with it, she could hear it down the hallways and through the compound. Wherever he was, she was not. She didn't know if she would be able to contain her sanity with him around.

This day, she was heading to Siberia. The leader had caught wind of a secret base in the snowy mountains owned by an organization called SHEILD. She was to touchdown, scout, and relay information for a week if necessary. Mara didn't particularly like the cold but she would take anything to get out of the compound. She was walking down to the main bridge to a briefing meeting with the superiors and talking to Wheeler, a nice kid in charge of her mission folders, weapons, and preparedness. He was in a deep talk about glove upgrades before she caught a shadow out of the corner of her eye. So invested into her red-headed helper, she didn't notice the one thing she was suppose to elude. She glanced at him as her heart jumped to her throat. Dread must have filled her eyes because Wheeler stopped talking and stood still.

There stood the only person to know of her folly. His full mask on, hiding his face and eyes, which was the only indication she would know his emotions. It was as if he was guarding himself against her. She was the only one that could read him, and Ghost knew that better than anyone else. He stood stock still and rigid, a posture that defined him as much as his metal arm. He was dressed to the tee, probably going on mission. She tried to calm her racing heart and remember how to breath normally. She looked at Wheeler and smiled softly. The boy's sky blue eyes were wide in surprise. This was probably the first time he had seen the infamous Winter Soldier and he was a terrifying sight to behold. She placed a tranquil hand on his shoulder.

"I'm going to meet you in the briefing room, okay?"

Wheeler nodded and looked between the two top operatives before taking his leave. Mara put on a look that was supposed to be haughty but probably came out more awkward. Her nerves were getting the best of her. She honestly did not know why she was so anxious. It had been so long and the feeling of overwhelming need had quelled. She no longer felt the flames that burned beneath her skin when he was around. Maybe it was over. Maybe they could forget all this and actually work like a team again. She placed a hand on her cocked hip.

"Long time, no see." She fell back into herself. A rhythm long forgotten. She quirked an eyebrow. "Mission?" Ghost nodded silently. "Oh. Well, we're heading the same direction." She turned toward the north hallway and took a few paces before looking back to see him standing in the same area. Rolling her eyes, she jerked her head for him to follow. He briskly walked toward her direction falling in line with her quick steps. The beating of her heart began to calm as she reverted back to the way things used to be. This felt more like the very beginning when they were new towards each other, but Mara would hold on to that while she could.

They walked as she hummed her songs. This melody of climbing chords. A stiff comfortability between them. Mara saw the door of the briefing room in front of them and Wheeler standing by it patiently. The boy was intelligent and nervous, but loyal nonetheless. She was always reminded of a spaniel when she looked at him. His curly untamable hair and large sky eyes always ready and excited to see her. She had grown to enjoy his company as she alienated herself from her closest friends. Wheeler had always been a welcome company and eager to please. He lowered his eyes respectably as they approached and opened the large metal door for them to enter. She smiled a thank you and drifted to her seat across from the superiors. Only two were present today. Father, Detweiler the head of tactics, and themselves sat around the oval table with Wheeler standing behind her.

"Good." The golden haired leader nodded. "You both came together. This will be the first time in a long time, if I'm right." Mara looked at the leader confused. What did he mean together? This was a solo in Siberia and not even a challenging mission. Scouting mission were usually handled by a single operative of a secure clearance. She was a clearance eight and almost overqualified for the mission with her heightened sense. Ghost was a clearance ten and extremely overqualified. There was no sense in their decision. "We're sending you both. If this base does exist, it is the holding place of something extremely important to us. We have ties in S.H.E.I.L.D but even Fury doesn't know where every base is. They mostly spread all knowledge across many leaders for safety measures. We need you to see if this is just another rumor or not and infiltrate. What were looking for is a staff." Mara opened the folder in front of her. A silver staff with a strange blue tint in its head was photographed and paperclipped to the information packet. She spot read the packet quickly.

"Will it be heavily guarded?" Mara questioned. She had never seen such a strange device. It looked archaic and rudimentary compared to the weapons Hydra usually recovered.

The leader looked over his glasses. "Let's just say that this is the reason New York was and is still in ruin." Wide-eyed, she nodded thoughtfully. This thing was powerful. She quickly skimmed the rest if the papers and memorized the coordinations. " You leave at 2100, which should get you to Siberia in the morning." The leader stood and the others followed suit. "Good luck you two. Hail Hydra." Mara, Wheeler, and Detweiler repeated the mantra, while Ghost remained silent. The superiors exited, leaving the three of them. Mara turned behind her to the freckled helper and handed him the folder.

"So the gloves will be done in a week?"

Wheeler hesitated. "Well, the prototype is done now, I can sneak them out of lab if you want to try them out in Siberia. I bet they won't mind too much..."

She smiled widely. "That's my boy. I'm becoming a bad influence on you." Wheeler shook his head. His fire-licked locks bouncing around his head and a small bashful grin on his lips. "I'll meet you on the runway at 2030, and I'm expecting your promises." The young man nodded before heading out the door. She let out a breath and turned to the man she knew would be there. He stared through the tinted lenses, unmoving. She tried not fidget under his gaze. Whatever comfortability there was, now gone. "So... 2100." He did not flinch nor speak. She rocked back to her heels looking towards the door. "See you there."

She turned quickly towards the door and made her exit. As she looked behind her one last time, seeing his unfiltered stare. The coldness sent a chill down her spine as she closed the door behind her. She just had to make it a week. She could do that. She was an agent of Hydra and able of working with others. She could make Hydra proud and hopefully rekindle the platonic relationship she had before with Ghost. She was Mara and Mara was lethal, strong, and capable of anything.

* * *

Her raven hair whipped her face as Mara walked across the runway to her plane. She was thirty minutes early to meet her assistant and dressed in her combat blacks with a furry parka slung across her arm. She took large breaths as she approached the large C130. It's grey hull ominous against the dark sky. Overcoming her fear of flying was necessary with all the traveling she had been doing but would be lying if she said her heart didn't patter wildly when large plane came into view. The tall Wheeler looked minuscule next to the large cargo ramp into the plane which made her five foot four inch frame especially tiny.

She walked up to the red head and smiled a hello. Wheeler returned a sly smile and pulled a pair of beautiful gloves from his pockets, his eyes lighting up with excitement. "Okay, you ready for this?" He placed the left glove flat in his hands for her to see the details. The fingers were coated in a metal alloy, very similar to Ghost's arm but more delicate in its design. The metal curled up in swirls around her knuckles and ended around the middle of her hand. The metallic surface was strange though, pliable. " It's called suavinum. It's a man-made metal that functions like cloth." The metal waved gently in him palm, following his every move. "We created the modern day chain mail. It's flexible, protective, and hard as steel." Wheeler was grinning in excitement and his face practically glowing. Mara enjoyed watching someone who actually loved what they did.

"It's beautiful, Wheeler." She was grinning and crept a bit closer to see it in the dark. "Tell me its mechanics."

"Well, metal is the best conductor for vibration. So we upgraded the fingers to contain the suavinum to help your distance and sensitivity. They're also pretty handy in a fight." The tall boy gave her both the gloves. "Let's try them out." She slipped them on and watched as he jogged to the other end of the tarmac. He yelled over engine for her to feel for him. She placed her hand on the ground and instantly withdrew her hand. There were so many waves that she caught. She could feel the planes, the people, and she swore, the flowers growing. She had never felt that much before. Rubbing her hands together, she replaced them and prepared herself. Once again, a bombardment of trembling traveled up her fingers and through her arms. It swelled in her medulla and she tried to pick out the specific heartbeat within the wonderful cacophony. A few minutes passed, before she carefully picked out her assistants heartbeat. A strong beat oddly suited to the kind personality. She grinned wildly as she started yelling that she could actually feel him. He jogged back the forty feet with an equally happy look.

"They're perfect!" She exclaimed joyfully. Wheeler grabbed her hands and clasped them happily. "I've never felt that far before! It's amazing! " The freckled boy continued to smile as he checked over the gloves a last time, tumbling her hands in his own. She stared at the intricate metal swirls, knowing he put so much time into them. They fit perfectly and the black cloth that covered her hands was soft and warm, matching her combat suit perfectly. Wheeler rested her hands in his own and asked if there was any discomfort when she bent her finger. She experimentally flexed and clasped her fingers. She was about to shake her head when she saw the smile fall from Wheeler's face as he stared behind her head. He let go of her hands as if they were radioactive.

Confused, she looked behind her to see the Winter Soldier stalking towards them. His metal arm gleaming in the moonlight. She nodded a hello to his masked face. He stopped in front of her and moved his head to look to both. The tinted goggles making his stare encompassing as he stopped on Wheeler's tall frame. She gave a bewildered look between between the two males. What the hell was going on? Wheeler looked to ground, unable to met the imposing man's glare and Ghost turned away to enter the plane.

"What was that about?" She asked the red head.

Wheeler shrugged "I don't know but I don't like it."

She rolled her eyes and started walking backwards to the plane. "Don't worry. He's harmless..." She stopped, hesitating. "Well... Not really. Don't worry." The tall boy nodded skeptically before waving goodbye and heading back to home base.

* * *

Three days of uneventful trekking in Siberia. Three days of complete silence. Three days of boredom. Mara clamored barbarically around in the snow unable to feel her face or toes, for that matter. It had snowed nonstop for two days and continued to come down in troves. The snow level was well higher than ten feet off the ground reaching the middle branches of the evergreens surviving in this harsh climate. Her ears were burning from the wind but she was unable to cover them so she could at least try to listen for anyone coming their way. She was mindlessly bored out of her wits. There had been nothing but trees, snow, and one single snow rabbit since they landed on the ice desert. At this point, she would have even considered bringing Ogma if it meant some sort of change in pace.

A pace set by the quick man in front of her. His gait unchanged and elegant. He was streamline in the snow while she rolled after him ungracefully. Mara huffed behind Ghost annoyed at his ability to trance lightly across the Siberian snow. She wondered how he had the maneuverability. Maybe it was the days in the Soviet Union. It snowed there right? They told her of his past vaguely, but it was he that told her the details of what he could remember. It was very little but he said he remembered a siege called the Cold War. She would listen for hours during missions while he tried to remember his past. He would rattle off names and she would simply nod like she knew what and where he was talking about. Something about history and geography had gone awry when she was gifted her amnesia. It was as if there was a fuzzy lens that fogged her mind once a location or piece of the past was told. It was as if she had heard it before but it couldn't clasp it before it ran off. Other than the sites of her missions, countries, towns, and great cities were lost to her. Long hours of stories gave her a headache after awhile but she would endure the mild discomfort for the company.

Company that was now mute and cold as the winter snow beneath their feet. He had not spoken a word the entire trip. Not a single one. Mara tried a few times to stir conversation but he would simply walk away or nod and shake when necessary. He hadn't even taken the dammed mask and goggles off. It was driving her insane. She hated silence more than anything in the world, even the awkwardness of the mission. The vacancy of her mind was enough without the soundless environment to compliment. Songs had helped for awhile but soon her lips grew numb and lungs filled with burning ice making singing and humming nearly impossible. The melodies were no help solely in her abyss of a mind. She needed external noise.

Soon, her thoughts only turned to why he wasn't speaking to her. He was obviously angry with her but she couldn't figure out why. Sure, she took a hiatus from the team but she had done it before during initial training and a few times before the six target mission. If anything, he shouldn't have even noticed. Mara had made it look like it was orders sent from the superiors. There was no way he could possibly know that she orchestrated her break. On top of that, he had been given three solo mission during her split from the team. Ghost was gone as much as she was. Next, she thought maybe it was because she had kissed him. That one made sense. She had broken the rules, and with him, which made Ghost as much responsible in the eyes of Hydra as she was. Actually, he kissed her too, so there was no way he could be justifiably angry about that. Thinking more on the subject just made her slowly burn under skin. Like rotting wrath, she found herself getting testier.

Pounding her feet at a more maddening and energized pace she nearly caught up to Ghost before he turned into a cave to their right. The sun was past the tree lines so it was probably time to rest. The _Winter Soldier_ wouldn't need to rest, just the pathetic _normal_ human needed to rest her limbs and heat up the cold slab of meat called her body. She spitefully cursed him within her brain as he, as usual, stepped in, took off his pack and made a fire within three seconds. Mara could feel a heat she didn't know she possessed raise to her face as she threw her bag to the opposite side of the cave and huffed to the ground. Sitting on the rocky side, she stared down the man she used to call friend. Now he was just being a bastard with a stupid metal arm. He either refused to acknowledge her or found his knife suddenly interesting as he began to sharpen it slowly. Frowning harder, she crossed her arms and watched him sharpen an already sharp knife for thirty minutes.

"That's it." Mara announced as she got up and stalked to him, collapsing into a sit. She glared right into those tan lenses and made an ultimatum. "Either you take off that god forsaken mask and talk to me or I march right back to rendezvous and you can incur the wrath of the superiors with me." She knew the threat of the superiors was a low blow, but for them to work as a team again and put the past behind them, they had to communicate.

Both sat in harsh silence for about twenty seconds before he finally reached up and unclasped the mask and goggles from his face. He grasped them both within his hands and laid them in his lap. Looking up, he made her heart stop. She had almost forgotten the details of his face. The curve of his jaw, the firm line of his lips, and coarse hair across his taunt cheeks. Most of all, his eyes. The sorrow filled ice that pierced her chest. God, she remembered how much she missed him. Her hand almost moved to stroke his stubble with her deft fingers, before she shut down that command indefinitely. There was no time for this. Burying it deep within her heart, she took a deep breath to calm herself. Using her techniques of interrogation, she cleared her mind, telling her body that he was a comrade and nothing more. It may not be real but hell, she could pretend.

"Yes?" He finally answered darkly. A sweet tenor to her ears. His eyes were guarded even with the goggles off. A new form of hostility mixed within the normal sadness. She found herself suddenly less angry than five minutes ago. Just his stern face was enough to simmer her wrath and calm the furious beating of her heart. She sighed, giving up the act and allowing some vulnerability show through. She was going to have to forget her anger in order to solve anything and pierce through the shell surrounding the Winter Soldier.

"Was that so hard?" She tried joking, lightening the mood maybe just a tinge. She had come off very bitchy earlier and she realized that was not going to help the situation. Mara needed to approach this like an adult. He gave her a unamused look before waiting for her to continue. Her heart skipped a beat when she started, nervous as can be. "Why won't you talk to me? I thought we were partners."

"I thought we were too." A snippy reply escaping his tongue. Raising an eyebrow, she was surprised at the back-handed comment.

"What do you mean?" She treaded carefully with that response. She had a feeling where he was going and she wasn't sure she wanted to hear the answer.

"You left the team." He said looking into the snow behind her. His eyes distant and still hostile.

"I got orders for solo missions. You know I have no control over the superiors. We get our missions and complete them, no matter where or who with." She quickly replied, prepared for this accusation.

He sighed, rubbing his face in his hands. "Don't lie to me." He looked her in the eyes, the anger and hostility gone. Now, for the first time, she saw a tired soul. He was tired of fighting, killing, and taking orders. Tired of the fog within his own mind as two sides tried taking control. One, a killing machine with no emotions or regrets. The other, a man aching for an end to all the blood and confusion. "You were never good at lying to me."

She looked away, caught in her own falsehood. He had known the whole time that she was avoiding him and suddenly she felt something akin to guilt. She had abandoned them for no reason apparent to those she left. Ghost has had so many people leave him inexplicably and never return, and she had unwittingly added herself to that list. He was protecting himself. "Okay." She started softly. "You want the honest truth?" Sending a look that could only mean yes, Ghost sat patiently. She rubbed her hands together nervously. "I was scared." Unable to look at him, she continued. "I broke the rules and dragged you with me, but the thing is, I never feared for you. I selfishly feared for myself. They will never get rid of you. You are the ace in the hole, turner of the century, and prized fighter in the ring. What am I? Some random girl they picked up on the side of the road and granted mercy upon. They made me one of them. Allowed me to have a family and a name when I killed some of their own. There aren't second chances in Hydra especially if it concerned their Winter Soldier. We've seen it a billion times." She leaned back on her hands, the chilled floor quickly numbing her sensitive fingers. Looking into the fire, she shrugged as if to ward of her apprehension. Her shoulders remained stiff, uncomfortable. "That's the truth."

They sat in silence for a few seconds. Ghost gazed distantly outside, mulling over her monologue. Conflicting thoughts rampaged with in his mind as he processed Mara's train of reason. She made a good point. Hydra was unforgiving and strict with their policies. In all the years he thinks he's been of service, he has never once broken a rule that could be overlooked until this raven-haired woman came tumbling in his life with carefree smiles and wit. He could feel himself changing, becoming someone different than the assassin with only the mission on mind. Never before has some changed him. What's worse, he broke the rules for her. He had kissed her back. A foolish impulse driven by an emotion he had never felt before, and quickly quelled deep within.

When he had found out about her progression to solo missions, he thought it for the best. They had crossed into dangerous territory and time away was wise, but once it turned into three months of constant avoidance, he became annoyed. She was ruining a team and hindering Hydra by denying it their best pair team in centuries. He tried waiting, but soon became impatient, and cornering her was impossible with her damned sixth sense. Finally, he asked the superiors, much to their surprise, for a mission for the pair. Being the first favor he'd ever asked for, they agreed with bewildered looks. To the superiors, it looked like a regular dual mission to practice and getting back an artifact. Killing two birds with one stone, it seemed. He knew they would never suspect anything.

"What your plan of action?" Ghost finally spoke with a low voice.

She looked around the cave, finding the right words. "Forgetting it even happened seems like the best plan." Nodding, she found his eyes. "Oh, and don't become involved with or feel attraction toward anyone for the rest of my life."

He raised an eyebrow, settling on a sardonic look. "Does that included your assistant?"

She gave him a flat look. "Ew, seriously? I didn't peg you for the jealous type." He gave her a unappreciative scowl as she smirked. "Calm your metal panties. Wheeler is almost two years younger than me. Plus, he's gay so I don't think he sees me that way. I have a V where he likes a P."

Ghost's eyebrows almost flew off his face in surprise of her crudeness. "Oh."

She rolled her eyes. "He doesn't parade it around, and I don't judge. I know you won't tell anyone so that's why I told you. Hush hush about it, okay." Ghost nodded hesitantly. Mara grinned and stuck out her hand. "Alright. Let's put the past behind us and bury it deep deep deep inside like good agents. Partners?"

He gave an uneasy look before grabbing her hand in a shake. "Partners."

"Till our last breaths." She grinned happily before standing and returning to her side to prepare her sleeping bag. "It'll be nice to have the gang back. Team Valkyrie coming around to destroy and maim all against us." She laughed softly and crawled under her blankets. "Goodnight, Ghost."

He remained where he sat, constantly thinking about the last ten minutes. He nodded a good night. As he heard her breaths even in sleep, he turned to the fire. Watching the flames, he thought of something he didn't ever remember asking himself before. A side of himself that rarely saw the light. What did he want? Rewinding the last four months and replaying them like a broken record, he analyzed each fleeting moment. Kissing her was the first time he had felt anything other than confusion and madness. It was only time things felt right. He had missed her when she left and missed her even now in sleep. Nothing had ever happened like this before, and he was unsure how to handle it. Her suggestion felt like the best at this time, but some tiny voice inside reminded him what he truly wanted. To screw the rules. To run and kiss her, to feel her. That never got far before the shadowed mercenary took over once again, cementing the ideas of Hydra firmly within. A debilitating headache soon formed as he pinched the bridge of his nose. He would think of this later. Right now, he had a mission to complete.

* * *

Mara sat with her arms crossed in the back of the C130, staring at the forest green box adjacent to her seat. Inside was the object the superiors desired. A staff of mystical origin. It had been fairly easy to obtain once they found the base under fifteen feet of snow and a false tree trunk. Ghost had come up with the brilliant plan to use the trees as sound boards. Nearly every branch of a tree touched another, making it a great net to catch vibrations. They had walked the forest every forty feet and tried a new location, slowly mapping the coordinates. Once she found the tree containing the base door, she near jumped for joy and started digging. The security system was easy enough to crack with the right equipment.

Once inside, Mara and Ghost had systematically taken down everyone in their way quietly. They made it through the base without raising alarm or incurring the attention of the other half of the base with the use of her new gloves. It was hardly even fair. The only problem were the cameras. S.H.E.I.L.D loved their cameras. They had to stop at every hallway and room and reboot the film. It made the mission take longer but kept the rules of never endangering Hydra safe. They made it into an odd safe room with one of the pass cards procured from a victim of their siege, and easily found the forest green cargo box containing the staff. Mara opened it to double check and jerked back when she first saw it. The box radiated blue light and nearly blinded her. It was oddly attracting like a fly to a flame. Ghost quickly closed the lid and she snapped out of the trance. The long-haired man grabbed the box easily with his immense strength and they methodically made their way out. A open-close mission, as clean as it gets.

The lumbering gray plane picked them up at rendezvous and took off without a hitch. Now they sat, shoulder to shoulder, staring at the memorizing box. Mara couldn't help but gaze at it, fascinated. Something seemed to be pulling her toward it and Ghost knocked against her shoulder, bringing her back once again. He sent a concerned stern glance before returning to his statuesque position. The caramel-eyed woman shook her head thinking of anything else.

They landed at base and exited the plane finding the leader waiting for them. Ghost had the package in hand and placed it carefully at the feet of the elder superior. The leader looked at it pleased. "Very good you two. I knew I could count on my very best." The two nodded silently and waited for their orders. "Winter Soldier." Ghost stepped forward. "I have a special mission for you. Report to the briefing room tomorrow morning 0800 sharp. You are dismissed. " The mercenary nodded once and took his leave, not before turning one last time to look Mara in the eyes. Telling her everything. Mara smiled and glanced back to the golden-haired gentleman. "As for you my daughter, it's back to work immediately."

"Well, work keeps you young." She joked.

The leader laughed softly before continuing "Then I'm living forever." He nodded towards the folder. "Your next mission is just outside of Paris, a town called Vigny. You and Ogma will depart in an hour and land in Paris at 0500. You must have the mission completed by 0500 the next day. Exterminate everyone. No one left behind."

"Of course, sir." She looked over the papers. She wasn't overly thrilled to be paired with Ogma but it was better than going solo. At least she would have company, even if it is the chauvinist ogre.

" Very well." He turned to leave. "Good luck, my child and hail Hydra."

She repeated the phrase as she grinned good bye.

* * *

Crouched outside a beautiful French country villa, she waited for her signal. Ogma had scouted ahead and taken out the outside guards and cameras with his massive hands. He was cruel in his executions but efficient. His favorite end was strangling because he loved to see the life drain out slowly. He loved suffering. Mara preferred quick deaths if possible, but could not disagree with Ogma's methods. It was silent and clean. No evidence.

She placed her hand on the ground with the new gloves secured to her palm. She closed her eyes and silenced the dead noise invading her ears. Reaching as far as she could mentally, she waited for the click of an opened lock. She filtered through the noises of the animals and forest surrounding her. A squirrel to her left. A deer thirty-five feet to the southwest. Feeling the metallic click she raced down the embankment to Ogma's beating thunderous heart. As she approached it, she felt another fade away. One more victim to the giant of Hydra. She rounded the corner to find Ogma's hands wrapped around a maid's throat. Mara gulped down her disgust and tried to power on. She went through the villa methodically taking down everyone in her way. There was no theatrics, just a clean mission is all she asked for.

She made her way to the west wing where the the target slept. The grand hallway was lined with paintings of family past. Their ominous eyes following her as she strode through to their descendent. She felt the hair on the back of her neck raise as she gazed into the different faces. Shaking her head, she continued on. The dark chestnut door was intricately designed with a large stag in the middle. It's hooves stomping out a snake in the grass. she gazed at it, silently entranced. Was she a stag or a snake? The evil or the good. Hoping she was the stag, rooting out all the oppression and wrong in the world, she entered the room.

In a large bed, laid the target and what Mara assumed was his wife by the martial rings on her stand. They slept peacefully, unknowingly at their end. She raised the silenced pistol and delivered a killing blow to each. Clean, lethal, and fast. She turned to the door to see Ogma stumble in. He had a wide grin in his face and blood on his hands. She could see in his eyes that he was enjoying this. He lived for this.

"Start looking for evidence." She commanded as she started going through the bedside tables. Ogma nodded and gaited toward a small desk in the corner of the room. She opened the drawers finding nothing but random papers. Aggravated, she turned to see if Ogma had better lucky. That's when she felt it. A soft padding down the hall. She whipped her pistol toward the door and waited for the intruder.

"Mama? J'ai fait un cauchemar"

Mara froze in horror as a small child walked in the room. His large eyes dreary with sleep and small hand rubbing his face. The small thing's hair was long and curled adorably to his chin in chestnut ringlets. Her heart stood still as she watched the child's face scrunch in confusion. His tiny heart so faint with youth, she never heard it. Ogma looked to her before raising his eyebrows expectantly. He wanted her to kill the last person in the house, a child not even seven years old. She shook her head furiously and lowered her gun. She was not going to kill a kid because of his parents. He didn't know any better. It wasn't his fault.

Ogma huffed annoyed before letting a malicious grin crawl up his face and walking toward the tiny figure. The child scurried backwards to escape the monstrous hands of Ogma. His terrified face seeing truly the inevitability of his end. Her partner snatched the child with red stained hands and held him in his hands as it squirmed to escape. The little thing called for it's parents, pleading them to come save him. Ogma looked into her eyes with the vicious smile still on his face.

"No one left behind."

She stared horrified at her teammate and before she could stop him, he slammed the little boy's head against the wall. His tiny skull collapsing with a sickening crunch and his cries silenced. Stunned, she couldn't move, or think, or even breath. She stared at the limp bleeding body in the burly man's hands and her muscles suddenly coiled enraged. She launched herself at her comrade and tackled the large man to the ground. She was screeching profanities and attacking any flesh she could find. There was no thought to her attack, no plan of any sort. She just wanted to destroy the thing that had snuffed out a life too short. She doesn't even remember what happened after her attack on Ogma. Just still images coated in red.

Being restrained, dragged to the rendezvous, the compound van, Hydra. Her world was quickly turned upside down. Her thoughts coming so rapidly, she couldn't grasp a single one in time. The residual question of her morality coming into play and wondering what was right and wrong. Mostly just the single question why.

When she did gain consciousness, she was back in her room. She sat up in her cot wondering if the last two days had been real. If she had really seen what she did. She looked around at her room and felt people approaching. Three signatures. She stood, still confused with reality.

Her door opened without knocking and the leader stepped in with two guards. This time the leader was not smiling. His face no longer holding the same encouraging and paternal charisma. Now it was dark. Displeasure gracing his scowl.

"You upset me, child."

Confusion and guilt battled within her heart. She wanted to feel responsible for the mission's disastrous ending but couldn't bring her conscience to do the same. "Yes, sir." was all she could muster with lowered eyes.

"You did not complete your task and attacked a fellow teammate. We do not condone insubordination." His tone firm. Mara thought about the following nights events and recalled the littles boys face. It haunted her mind to see his bright brown eyes and then his rag doll frame slumped lifeless in the hands of a monster. Ogma would pay. Courage flew her veins as she defended her actions.

"He killed a child! How could our family ever be threatened by a child?"

The leader's stature grew stiff in her reply. Sighing he explained himself. "Children grow into teenagers and teenagers into adults. If that child is allowed to grow older with the seeds of hatred toward Hydra already flowing through its veins, then we have just postponed a threat until later." The leader was stern and unforgiving in his stare. She lowered her eyes once more, his reasoning not unsound. "You know our rules, and you broke one. You put our family in danger and for that you must be punished." Mara's eyes went wide. The golden-haired man sighed whilst rubbing his face. "I do not enjoy punishing my children, but you must learn somehow." He looked to the guards on his right. Two tall men by the names Chev and Torke. "To the basement."

"No." she whispered horrified. Not down there. Anything but down there. "Please. Please, Father. I'm sorry!" She began pleading as the two large men took her forcefully by the shoulder. "I won't break the rules again. I swear. Please don't put me down there. I can't. The silence." The leader looked unsympathetically at her. She made one last plea as she was dragged down the hallway to where she found herself in the beginning of this mess.

* * *

A.N. I'm baackkkkk! I'm so sorry my dears! It has been a crazy two weeks and to top that, this is the second time I've written this chapter. You guys can thank the lovely IAmChatlotte94441 for swaying me from making a huge mistake with this story. It was bad guys... So, currently I'm in Belgium so it will probably be a week until my next update but don't worry, I'm diligently working on this. Love you all and thank you for the favorites, follows, and reviews! You're the absolute best!


	9. Vacancy

Chapter Nine

Vacancy

* * *

The Winter Soldier exited the plan ramp, everyone cautiously parting from his stride. He was infamous around Hydra and not many looked him in the eye. The ghost story that stood before them in blood and flesh, well mostly flesh. He never paid mind to those below him, he had no care for power or revere. Only the mission usually stood sturdy in his mind, but that had all changed. His brain warred over two conflicting thoughts as he completed his last operation. The acceptable consistency of targets and missions against the person invading his thoughts. It had been twelve days since he had left for his mission and he still could not evict the little assassin from evading his conscience.

Making his way into the compound, he turned down the labyrinth to the debriefing room. His mission had, unsurprisingly, been a success. An easy recon to Egypt for a few missiles to add to the armory filled with weapons of mass destruction. Ghost usually did not like to mull on the details of Hydra but the sheer number of artillery owned by the organization was excessive to say the least. He understood a war was coming, feeling the precipice of battle on the horizon. It had been six years since he woke from the ice or so he thought, and he had been in constant work preparing. The tension that now filled the air could only mean that the day was coming. Soon.

He turned in the dark room, finding only the leader with his nicely pressed gray suit and glasses riding down his nose as he read a ledger in his hand. The crisp paper was drenched in red writing, many items highlighted and drawn. Ghost was too far to read it but it looked important and secretive. The leader looked up to see him standing in front of the chair. The golden-haired man knew better than be surprised of the sudden appearance of his greatest agent. He even knew better than offering a seat to the stoic soldier. Placing the paper face down away from prying eyes, he slowly clasped his hands in front of his face, resting his chin upon the knuckles.

"Mission report."

The Winter Soldier instantly replied. "Mission success. All missiles obtained and waiting for transport."

The leader unclasped his hands slowly and leaned back in his chair. "Very good." He looked to the Winter Soldier levelly and contemplated about what he wanted next. Ghost watched him carefully, gauging his superior's facial language. He was hiding something. The hidden smirk laying over his teeth said a bigger story than the man itself. Normally, Ghost would never think twice about this concealed secret but something itched this new cognizant side of him. Burying it deep within, he waited for the leader to continue. Apparently coming to a decision, the elder man sat up. "Our plan is on the ending phases. Soon, Hydra will announce itself to the world in the most brilliant of ways. Until that moment, I have no use of you. Conserve your energy and don't get hurt. The pivotal time is coming for us to act." The Winter Soldier nodded once severely. "Dismissed." The dark mercenary turned to the exit, disappearing. The rustling of the crisp page the last noise to exit the room.

Now, he was able to do what he wanted when he first entered the compound. He strode with purpose towards the one place he knew by heart. Workers and random agents jumped away from his imposing gait. Down the maze of hallways he continued. The random paths no longer a mystery to him. Past the gym, where her sweat melded into the mats. Beyond the range, where her first bullet had not even hit the target but the wall behind it. Finally, to the large metal door that held the only single room in the entire compound. Once a small storage closet, now it accommodated the only female in Hydra's compound. He grasped the knob and pulled it to reveal a pristine room. All the item untouched. Looking around curiously, he surveyed the room. She was supposed to return two days after her mission and yet the room looked like it hadn't been occupied in two weeks. The blankets on the cot, flat and unused. The desk had a sheen of dust covering the surface and the dog-eared dictionary he had given her laying squarely in the corner. He breathed in the air, only receiving stale air and none of her scent. His eyebrows furrowed. It was possible that she was sent on another mission, with the upcoming war, but it seemed highly unlikely that she would sleep somewhere other than her bunk.

He turned towards the door to leave, but something caught his sharp eye. There were fingerprints lightly cast upon on of the drawers of the desk. It's outline shinier than the dusty surface. He carefully pried open the metal drawer finding stacks of folded papers at the bottom. Curious, he picked one at the top and opened it. The top read to Mara and the bottom signed Rumlow. Something wicked seized his heart as he began to read the note. He felt no guilt or shame reading these. As a team they were to share all information with each other and as a fellow teammate of Valkyrie, he had as much right to read these than Mara. He quickly skimmed the message to find it was only of concern. Apparently, from these notes, Rumlow hadn't seen nor heard from the black-haired assassin since they got back from their mission. Ghost didn't like the sound of that but from the stack of letters collecting in the drawer, he wrote to her often and placed them in here for her to return. The large quantity could only mean there was no reply. The silent man returned the notes to the desk and closed the drawer. His thoughts were beginning to muddle within his brain creating a cacophony even he couldn't understand. He couldn't trust anyone so, he did what he did best and buried his worry and concern. He marched straight to the gym and beat the punching bag until it bled sand.

A week passed and there was still no word on the female agent. Ghost began to worry that Hydra had uncovered their tryst. The simple kiss that was even more dangerous than themselves. He wondered if they would be informed of her departure. A teammate short, Valkyrie still practiced daily as if she had never existed. They were discombobulated and sloppy without the small woman. A Winter Soldier not at the optimum. The only one even portraying concern over the missing link was Rumlow. His face creased in constant worry and anxiety, but like the others, never said a word. Agents of Hydra knew better than voice distress when concerned about others. Members flitted through the organization like the wind. One day there, the other day not, either disposed or killed in action. After awhile, they learned to stop asking which.

Ghost refused to think she was dead. Of all the places she could be, death was not an option. He wanted to believe in her, believe in her will to fight, but after days started to pass more frequently in her absence, he began to prepare himself for another loss. It was less helpful that he was sitting around unused. Unable to keep his mind busy, he trained throughly, but this meant little to his body. He was already at the peak of fitness both genetically and physically, and there was near nothing to improve. Once he was finally out of people to spar or beat his knuckle to a bloody mess, he went to the range. Firing round upon rounds into the dark silhouette did not quiet the storm brewing. Everything he did reminded him of her. How she used to concentrate when she shot, tiny furrows creased under her brows. How she would choose the biggest gun they had, to see if she could handle it this week. If she was truly gone, then she would be one of the few that would be harder to erase from the crevices of his mind.

* * *

Rumlow trotted his way down the hallways. Life had been good as of late. His covert missions with Captain America and team Stryker have been successful and the poor superhero had not the slightest idea. He almost felt bad for the guy, he was a good soldier and man in general. It was just a shame he fought so passionately for the enemy and served as Fury's personal lap dog. Everyone knew the Cap was stuck in his ways and converting him would be a lost and a dangerous. After all, he did almost destroy the whole organization in the forties. There's no coming back from that.

Today had been nice and restful, a gift from the superiors for his excellent work. He was planning on hanging out with the team, but it wasn't really the same anymore. He was with Stryker constantly and some of the men weren't as high in clearance so he had to watch what he said making it much less relaxing. Team Valkyrie wasn't the same anymore without the spitfire known as Mara. Sure, there was Ogma, the big oaf, but he was vain and arrogant. Rumlow could only take him in small spurts without wanting to strangle his thick neck. Then, Winter Soldier who would make serial killers look charming and statues loquacious. The only thing that kept them together was the woman with wit matching his own and her ability to make a conversation interesting for anyone. She could talk to a group including a Buddhist monk, an artist, and a prison guard, and make them all talk as if they'd been friends forever after a few minutes. However kind she was though, Mara could be just as deadly. Rumlow smiled at the thought. If it weren't for the strict rule of fraternizing within the organization, he was sure he would have tried to snag her for himself. She was a rare one indeed.

This brought him to his current concern. Where had Hydra's desert rose run off to? He hadn't seen her in close to three and a half weeks and received no replies to his letters. He checked her room everyday to see if she would be sitting there, palming through a new book she found. Everyday he was disappointed with emptiness. He was beginning to get worried, afraid she had fallen like many of his comrades before, but Ogma, her partner during the mission before she disappeared, was standing in the compound in flesh and blood. There was no way that Mara would go down before the lumbering ogre. Hydra was cloaked in secrets so she might be undercover, her whereabouts not to be revealed in fear that she would be uncovered accidentally by their own people. Just safety measure after safety measure.

The tall muscular man turned into the office of the superior. He had been called upon by the leader for something related to Valkyrie. He hoped it would be about his missing teammate or a new mission, but refused to hold his breath. He entered the nice round office sharply and stood at attention. The leader looked over his glasses and waved his hand haphazardly. Rumlow relaxed into a casual lean against the wall and waited for the nicely dressed man to speak.

"Rumlow, do you know what happens to those who don't follow the rules?" The question floated in the air as Rumlow's stomach dropped. This was not the conversation he expected. Thinking over everything he had done in the last three months, and was sure he had done everything right. He was meticulous.

"Yes, sir. Punishment or execution." He answered as calmly a his voice would let him.

"Yes. Exactly." The older man rose from his chair to stand in front of the agent. "Insubordination will not be tolerated, correct?" Rumlow was confused by these questions but answered a sure yes. "Wonderful. Well, I have one of our own that had to be taught a lesson. I need them brought to my office immediately. Go down to the basement and grab them for me. If they get too unstable leave them there and report back to me, but they should be subdued by this time." He nodded to one of the guards outside his door. "Take Torke with you. Power in numbers. Dismissed."

The agent nodded and left to exit. He glanced at the young guard and went on his way towards the lower levels. The basement was forty feet in the ground and only accessible by elevator that was biometrically tuned to each passenger. If you were not allowed in the lower levels, you were not going to the lower levels. Rumlow entered the elevator with the guard close behind. He pushed the silver button with a simple P in red before the elevator dinged at them. A proper woman's voice echoed within the small compartment.

"Rumlow, Brock does not have clearance for Prison level." The tall agent stared at the speaker bewildered. Since when was he not allowed in the basement? He was clearance eight for god sakes. He was about to question the elevator before the guard behind him interrupted.

"Override. Torke, Charles." Rumlow stared at the young man absolutely perplexed. This guy could not have clearance over four and yet could override the system to let him, a level eight clearance, down in the basement. Something felt odd and Rumlow didn't like it.

"Override complete." The sickly sweet voice said as the elevator began to shudder down the long shaft. Rumlow now felt the tension in the air, whatever resided in the basement was for him and only him to see. The leader was going to make a point. The large metal doors finally opened to reveal the large expansive space known as the Shadow Prison. Hydra had developed a way to keep prisoners in a large space but also solitary. Large metal cast cages stood about ten feet from each other but each cast it's own light. Outside the small lit circles stood darkness blacker than night. Fixtures attached to the ceiling sent high density waves that acted as a buffer around each containment cage. The strength of the sound radiated toward the ground, stopping all noise from one quadrant to the other. In all, making soundproof barriers that are permeable by humans and objects.

The two Hydra agents continued down the long dark hallway. Few of the cells held anyone of importance. A few prisoners here and there, all miserably stranded in their cages. Rumlow didn't come down here often just because of the hopeless morose atmosphere. There was no life here, only strife. Down the long path they continued until soon there was nothing but empty cages lining each side. The hollowness saturating the air. Torke trotted on until the elevator was a mere blip in the past. Finally, they reached the last cage tucked far away in the back. Torke blocked the view of who this mysterious person could be but Rumlow couldn't help but peek around in curiosity. What he saw nearly broke his stride.

There, broken and silent, kneeled the woman. The spitfire that ravaged people whole. Her head bent low and dark greased locks covering her doll face. She looked positively frail and small on her knees. Her forearms covered in dried blood that originated from the crook of her elbow, like an IV had been viciously ripped from her arms. Her skin looked faded and dull covered with scrapes and bruises, not the vibrant cream it usually was. He almost uttered her name in surprise before checking himself and remaining quiet. Torke came to a stop by her cell at attention and nodded toward the elder agent. Rumlow stepped forward and called her.

"Runt?" His voice cracked painfully as he tried to reach out to his teammate. The girl never moved from her kneeling position. Her body rocking back and forth slowly.

Torke shook his head and moved Rumlow away from the bars. The young soldier stood in front of the bars and grasped his gun between his gloved hands. Taking the butt of it, he tapped twice upon the black bars. As the iron vibrated loudly, his bedraggled teammate rose from her knees, no longer graceful but mechanical. She walked silently to the pair, face still concealed from view. Torke grabbed the bar, letting the biometric reader recognize his command. The bars faded and nothing stood between the three. Rumlow went to touch her but the younger soldier stopped him with a shaking head. Shock was still running wild with in his body. Torke grabbed Mara's upper arm and guided her back to the elevator. She went without a fight, pacing beside him with her necked arched towards the ground.

The older operative followed silently, watching this scene unfold in front of him. What on earth had happened? The leader had painfully made his point clear but for what purpose? Runt must have done something, but Rumlow could not see how. The girl was undoubtably loyal to Hydra from day one. Racking his brain proved useless, he was going to have to figure it out and he had a feeling the leader would see to it that he knew what she had done. A scare tactic that was working exceedingly well. Showing the consequences before the betrayal.

They continued down the dark hallway and boarded the bright elevator. The quiet that perforated the claustrophobic elevator almost made Rumlow, a seasoned agent, fidget nervously. The elevator climbed slowly and he snuck glances at her defeated form. He couldn't see her face and that was all he wanted. He couldn't believe that the spark was gone from those caramel irises, her smiling face wouldn't greet him. He didn't want to believe his organization had done this to one of their best. The elevator dinged loudly but the woman didn't even flinch. It was as if she was deaf to all around her, consumed by her mind. The more Rumlow was around her the more uncomfortable he felt. He quietly prayed for it to end, for this to be some sick joke everyone was playing on him.

They approached the superior's office, entering without permission. The leader looked up briskly and stood while taking off his glasses. "Very good." He slowly made his way around the desk. Circling like a vulture about to consume her flesh, he continued to observe her. "I suspect you noticed some differences in our Mara." The leader glanced at the agent, as if daring him to question his motives. Rumlow remained silent. "You see, I gave her everything. Mercy, training, love. Most important, family. Yet, with all the freedom and direction we gave her, she had the gaul to defy my orders." The older gentleman came to a stop infront of her. "Maybe it was too much freedom." He shrugged his shoulders sat on the edge of the desk. The small assassin continued to stand, unfaltering.

Rumlow shifted between his feet, growing more and more uncomfortable with the leader's imposing glare and the lifeless form standing in the middle of the room. The golden haired man nodded for Torke to approach. The young soldier did so stiffly.

"Torke, remove her ear pieces." Rumlow looked to the both confused. Earpieces? The leader once again continued. "Do you know what makes a perfect soldier?" Rumlow remained stock still, unable to move. He had never been so nervous in his life. "Silence. Obedience. Strength. Back in the forties, Hydra had perfected this. Doctor Zola's experiments proved to be a resounding success as you can see from our own Winter Soldier. You need to invade the mind, take control. Zola's solution was brainwashing. A rudimentary answer comparative to modern day technology, but a breakthrough then. As the years continued, we got stronger and smarter. Now we use an operation called phobic teaching, using the fears of a person to shape their psyche. It may be a militaristic way of operant learning but we have polished it to perfection."

Torke moved to the side of Runt's face, lifting her hair out of the way. Rumlow spotted oddly shaped metallic pieces in her ear, and blood dried on her neck. The young guard placed a hand at the back of her ear and started unscrewing a small piece. Removing the shining item from her ear, Rumlow saw a hole left in its wake. They had drilled into the shell of her ear and secured the earpiece that he could only assume blocked noise from entering the ear canal. The blood must be from her trying to rip out the pieces. Shocked, he wondered why they would go to the extent of securing noise cancellers. He suppressed a shudder as he thought was why she wouldn't answer, she couldn't hear him.

The leader called back his attention. "Hers were fairly easy." He nodded to her still form. "Silence. The shadows that consumed her mind after the wipe left her unable to handle solitary confinement. Her form of relief coming from singing and humming. So, when she first resisted our operations, we took that away from her too. The earpieces were specifically made for her. Completely soundproof. Now she is wholly yielding to our commands." From his vest pocket, he pulled out a tiny yellow pill. "This is a low dose of arsenic. Enough to make her violently sick but not enough to kill her." Rumlow watched carefully as the leader approached the only female. "Agent Mara. Attention." Robotically, she straightened dramatically and raised her head.

For the first time, Rumlow saw her face and almost reeled backwards. Her pale face was angular with starvation. Dark maroon streaks ran from her ears to her cheekbones and finally to her neck, making her look like a strange bloody warrior. All this was startling, but none so much as her eyes. Vacancy inhabited them. There was no life or emotion showing through. The caramel color faded to a dark brown almost black color. Her pupils were dilated largely giving her an even more gaunt look. It was as if he was staring into the reaper's own eyes, a complete void of recognition or the woman she used to be. She stared unflinchingly at the leader, listening intently. The elder man held out a flat palm with the tiny pill nestled between the folds of his hand. "Take it." Immediately, she grabbed the pill and swallowed it. Rumlow stared horrified. She had willingly taken poison and did not even think twice. She had become the killing machine the leader wanted; obedient, silent. The agent tried to swallow the fear that threatened to crawl out from his throat. He was seeing Hydra's true nature for the first time, and he feared he might just be staring at his future. Mara was second best in Hydra and they experimented and moulded her into the robotic soldier standing in the office with him. What would stop them from doing the same to anyone else? Rumlow started to see a trend with the best. All brainwashed and obedient, but in different ways. The Winter Soldier had been created out of curiosity and the need for a grand mercenary. Runt now changed for whatever problem she had caused. Both losing control of their own bodies and becoming a vessel to Hydra's plans.

The leader looked to the still operative and sat in the edge of the desk. "She is completely under my will and command." He pointed to her harshly. "This is what happens when you fail me. Do not fail me." Rumlow nodded once sharply, fear spreading to his limbs. "Very well. Take her to train and get some food in her. I need her back into fighting condition no matter how many hours of training it takes." He returned to his desk and started rifling through some papers. "You are dismissed." The agent turned quickly to exit, trying to escape the room suffocating him. Mara followed behind him, cloudy eyed. As he entered the hallway, he turned to look at her again.

"Runt?" No response. Rumlow tried snapping his fingers. Maybe he could wake her up from this nightmare. Nothing. "What did they do to you?" A rhetorical question that bounced off the hollow hallway. She stood straight, awaiting orders, until her body began to shake. Her face remained placid as she began to convulse. Bending over, she vomited acid. Her stomach was completely empty so all that left her body was bile and Rumlow stepped back in surprise before seeing the tiny yellow pill, half digested. As she finished retching, she returned to her upright position and awaited orders once more. The tall man did not know how to react and silently pointed toward the direction of the gym. Mara marched quickly in the direction and Rumlow stared after her, truly scared for the first time in a long time.

* * *

The sound of punches echoed in the empty gym. The Winter Soldier was doing what he had been doing for the past three weeks. Training harder and longer than before. Anything to get his mind off the thoughts that plagued his mind. They were distracting and unnecessary, causing unneeded worry for his single-tracked mind. He continued to hit the punching bag forcefully, the hard tarp material slowly ripping at the seams. This would be the fourth bag he had destroyed in a week. The compound was slowly running out of inventory and Ghost didn't know what he would do when the day came and there was no more equipment to occupy his mind. His fleshed hand was battered pretty badly but he usually healed fast, plus with his pain tolerance, he couldn't be bothered with the slight sting after each strike against the hard sand.

He had been in the gym for about twenty minutes when the doors opened to reveal a figure. In the darkness of the room, he could only see the outline of a feminine stature and its rigid posture. Quickly, he stopped his exercise and stood still, trying to recognize the person. Hope filled his body, but soon disappeared when he noticed subtle differences that only disproved it wasn't her. It wasn't the woman who consumed his mind. Too skinny. Too upright. Too silent. He silently stood observing the distant figure before turning to resume beating a bag to a pulp.

Getting about three punches in, he was interrupted once again by the door, this time it was someone he knew. Rumlow was someone Winter Soldier could pick from a crowd easily. He was a good comrade and teammate. The new arrival turned to the shrouded woman and spoke quietly to her before pacing toward Ghost. Rumlow's face became clearer as he closed the distance between them, the girl following behind. Ghost was about to nod a greeting but was stopped when he saw his comrade's expression. Fear and confusion pervaded his creased face, causing the mercenary's muscles to coil instinctively.

Rumlow stopped about ten feet away from the Winter Soldier before allowing the mysterious woman to catch up. As she continued to come closer, he started to see why there was so much tension in the air. His heart skipped a beat. It was her. Before him in flesh and blood was the woman that devoured his attention. He started to surge forward, to see if his eyes were playing tricks on him, to see if it was truly her. The light danced across her skin and her oiled hair. She was much skinnier and smaller than remembered, but it didn't matter. She was back.

She lifted her head to meet his gaze and he stopped mid-step. There was something terribly wrong. It was her, he was sure of it, but her face and eyes. It was if staring into his own reflection. The shadows that lay waste to her mind now reflected through the glassy orbs and no longer permeated the life that once held true. They were soldier eyes, his own.

Standing a distance away, Ghost looked to Rumlow for answers. The tan man refused to meet his gaze, instead stared at the woman known as Mara.

"Boss says that training is to resume immediately." he shifted between his feet, a sign of uncomfortability. "Let's start with you two." Rumlow walked to the side, turning on the rest of the lights. The newfound brightness illuminated the woman in front of him. He could see all the scars and bruises that splashed across her skin, the dark red streaks. Rage threatened to take over as he saw the damage she was inflicted. He silently wondered what happened to her and where she had been.

Mara walked to the mat in the middle of the gym, waiting for him to do the same. His muscles moved before his brain and positioned him adjacent from her. He searched her oval face, waiting for her to come back. Vacant eyes only replied. Rumlow returned to the mat.

"Ready?" Ghost nodded as Mara remained still. The tan agent frowned but continued. "Go."

The Winter Soldier docked his feet in a sturdy fighting stance. The dark haired woman didn't move. He calculated an attack, something that would get her down easily and relatively pain free. Springing forward, he went to grapple her from the waist, but she moved quickly away, deflecting his metal arm. He tried again but time after time she evaded his grasp with a speed he never knew she possessed. Frustrated, he went for a right hook and was surprised when she grabbed it easily and sent him to the ground with a simple pull. This was not how she fought, her usually teasing fighting style was lost to this new efficient assault. She barely moved a muscle yet was winning this spar. Getting angrier, he decided it was time to screw going easy but he didn't want to hurt her even more than she currently was. Confliction warred within his mind as he leaped at her, grabbing a fist full of her shirt. He pulled her down in a roll and straddled on top of her, grabbing one wrist in his grasp.

She looked at him, fully complacent and impassive. There was no determination, no competition. Her eyebrows furrowed slightly and she reached up with her free hand to the side of his mechanical arm. Sliding her fingernails underneath one of plates, she ripped it out, exposing the circuitry. Foreseeing the future, he tried to move out of her range but she pulled out the wires within seconds. Ghost felt his arm go limp and immobile. She had actually disarmed him, no normal human could completely pry out a metal plate. There was something different physically, not just mentally. Mara dropped the wires on the ground as he got to his feet again, and crouched in a low kneel. He ran towards her trying to get the upper hand again, and she swiped her leg to trip him. Jumping in time, he soared over her. She powered her hands up to grab his ankles and stood. This left his ankles higher than the rest of his upper body and he found himself face down in the mats. The little killer quickly positioned herself on his back and grabbed his hair within her thin digits. She retched his head backwards and grasped his neck with her other hand. He was powerless in her hold, one less arm and a death hold on his throat proved this. Finding himself replaying all the times he lost to her, it had never been like this. They fought with respect for each other. This was merciless and efficient as if he was truly her target. If he had been, right now he would be dead.

She got up from his back, slowly releasing his hair. Stalking to the side of the mat, she waited for the next round. The Winter Soldier sat up. Looking to her, he made a decision. This was not Mara. Mara was dead. What stood before him was a husk of her skin filled with poison. She was what is left of the woman with fire in her eyes and a laugh in her smile. She was a fake, a fraud. He rose from the ground and prepared himself. He would not lose to an imposter, and most of all, he would not lose her. He'd find a way. A way to bring her back from the dead. He had to try.

* * *

Hello loves! I can't believe how long it's been! I'm so sorry but it's been ridiculous over here and my birthday was yesterday! So as a belated birthday gift, I'm giving you all another chapter! Yay! So I hopefully got across what I wanted without too much confusion. I hope everyone is well! Thank you for the reviews, favorites, and follows! You each are dear to my heart!


	10. Runt

Chapter Ten

Runt

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The heavy thudding of boots echoed down the skeletal halls of Hydra. Their source coming from the otherwise silent man that stalked toward his destination. His body surged with confidence and purpose but failed to reveal the true chaos that wreaked havoc on his mind. There were too many twisting threads that crisscrossed and knotted within, creating a complicated web that had no pattern and was completely illegible. He felt like a spider trapped within his own spindles of silk. This array of confusion was not his home, and it hadn't been for a while. The foreign thoughts that flowed through were indecipherable and he couldn't tell which were actually his own or planted by the superiors that ruled his every action. Sometimes he felt like ripping his hair out and screaming, just to feel something of control. Mostly he trained, a mindless activity that numbed this feeling of helplessness.

He tried to meditate on nothingness. To allow the abyss to consume him whole and quiet the noise, but a small part of him refused to be buried, consistently prodding. For the first time in a long time, he felt out of place within his own mind. Sure, the superiors dictated where he was and when but he commanded the way it was to be done. Planning every small detail of a mission to the finest of points, and relishing in the heat of battle. He told the men where to go. He set the plan. He was the leader. That was something even the people who ordered the mission couldn't dictate.

Now, the dynamics of Hydra were changing. Valkyrie was in shambles and missions were in a standstill. He had waiting, collecting dust, in the compound for close to a month and a half now, and could feel the complacency. What's worse was the feeling of solitude. All members of Hydra were preparing, on the cusp of war. The compound was hollow and desolate, leaving the Winter Soldier to feel loneliness. He had felt this before. Actually reveled in it before someone had interrupted it for the better. Her image floated in his mind before he quickly swatted it away. She was no longer with him, to fill his time with trivial conversation and infinitesimal questions concerning the universe. Her laugh no longer filled the spacious gym or traveled down the halls. Mara had become what he was. Cold, vacant. A soldier ready to die for Hydra with undeniable servitude. A slave to the leader's will. A husk. A ghost.

Her memory still haunted him. Sometimes he would feel her presence when he trained, as though she sat on the mats watching him like she had before. Stopping to always check, to see if she had snapped to her senses and come back to him. As always, disappointment echoed in the emptiness. Hopelessness tried to grasp his heart in a steely hold, but the Winter Soldier remained determined. Hydra, the leaders included, was in a tizzy preparing for the oncoming war. The excitement around the organization nearly bubbled over the edge. They were consumed by planning and tweaking, overlooking his activities making him able to do whatever he pleased. It wasn't as if they expected him to get himself in trouble and disobey orders.

Hacking the database was hardly a chore. The system in place was based off the same model implemented before his last freeze. Kr0n0s was a highly specialized central system based on the needs of Hydra. Created by Demetri Belov, a soviet engineer bribed by Hydra in the seventies, it was the most advanced of the decade using biometric readers for the first time. As the years continued, even after he was cryo'd again, the system was upgraded but they left his DNA in the hard drive. He had never had a reason to use it before, but now the occasion arose. Entering one of the many database rooms, he used one of the large touch desks and searched for answers.

The Winter Soldier honestly didn't know what he would find or if he wanted to know, but the tiny voice that had been causing trouble lately prompted him to. It goaded him with curiosity. Silently scouring the files, he found her name and enlarged the files within. Expecting just papers with mission reports, he was surprised with the exorbitant amount of videos and photos that pulled up. The first, a picture when she first arrived. Her round face bright and observant, a smile playing shyly across her face. Caramel eyes, her most striking feature, were practically glowing with life and excitement. He stared almost wistfully at the snapshot. This was the woman he knew, the one that consumed his mind.

He broke his gaze and continued through the photos. They were chronological starting from the first day at Hydra. Her haunting smile graced each until a candid appeared from right after their Serbian adventure. That was the last of her smiling face. Suddenly, there were videos and photos of her bound in ropes and savagely screaming at anyone near. Her eyes sharp as a caged animal. Her face contorted in wrath. He picked up the pace, quickly riffling through the pictures. Pulling up the mission report, he quickly scanned the footnotes of the classified page.

Agent Mara dismissed from mission due to insubordination and failure to follow Hydra rules. Punishment determined by Grand Leader Pierce. She is confined to lower basement level Shadow Prison until further notice. Phobic treatment starting imminently.

_Phobic treatment?_ He had never heard of anything of the sort before and hurriedly proceeded. What he saw next shouldn't have shocked him, but it did. A blindingly white room appeared and within sat a dejected Mara. Her hair already starting to tangle with oils and her body frail from starvation. If he had to guess, she was probably a week in. A soldier walked on screen and approached her. She didn't move nor flinch when the man began fingering around her ears. He seemed to be adjusting something, but as he drew his hand away, the Winter Soldier saw something metallic and then blood. The soldier continued to the other ear and repeated his action. He laid the two metal pieces on the floor in front of her and left.

She sat noiselessly for a minute or two, slowly rocking back and forth, before the door opened once more. This time the leader appeared. One hand was tucked into his pocket whilst the other cradled something to his chest. His nonchalant pace made ample time for her to look up. Nervousness saturated her face as she glanced between the leader's face and the object in his arm. With the leader's back to the camera, the Winter Soldier could not see what caused her anxiety. Only when the older man bent down to place it on the ground did he realize what it was. Upon unsure legs was a solid black pup, wobbling dangerously between standing and sitting.

"A stray whelped pups by my guest house a few weeks back." the leader's strong voice filled the room. " Three strong brown males, and this little black runt female. She was the last to open her eyes."

Mara's body language was guarded, distrusting. She glimpsed at the pup as it drew nearer to her. Its clumsy walk to her crossed legs. Her face naturally softened as it pawed her foot curiously. Taking her big toe in its mouth, it gnawed playfully. Mara shot an anxious look to the man in the room, and he inclined his head, as if giving permission. She laid a hesitant hand on the young pup's back and smoothed down the unruly coat. The little female rolled upon it's back and allowed Mara to scratch her round belly. Pierce began to circle the two, watching like a hawk.

"This pup reminds me of you." Mara looked upward to the well-dressed gentleman. Her eyebrows furrow lightly. "So small and fragile, much like when you arrived. You should have died out there in the cold but instead you overcame your disadvantages and became something great. This pup should not have survived birth. Being a runt is a very dangerous thing in the animal world and yet it has overcome the odds as well." The leader stopped firmly in front of the two. "Unfortunately, like you, it has become unruly with her brothers, becoming an annoyance. She continually bites their ears and picks battles she cannot win, and yet, continues to instigate them. When her brothers grow older they will not tolerate it, she will be put in her place or she will die."

Mara grasped the puppy's small body and placed it in her lap, a motherly instinct to protect it. The black pup nestled between the space between her legs and placed her head above to stare quizzically at the strange man. The raven-haired woman continued to stroke its back and look to her superior. She could see where this was going and her mind was working furiously to plan an alternate route, a different ending.

The leader stepped closer, and imposing shadow covering her body. "You need to be put in your place or you will die. You follow our rules and my every command. _I _saved you. _I _clothed you. Fed you. Trained you. Everything you are is because I made it so. You are to follow my every whim to the absolute end, no questions. I would have thought pairing you with Winter Soldier would have taught you that."

Mara's head whipped to his as the words left his mouth, a hard glare overcoming her face. Her hands stopped petting the small pup. Sitting impossibly still, she waited for him to continue, to insult her mentor, but the leader saw something she didn't anticipate. His eyebrows soared to his hairline.

"Ah. So you've taken a liking to your mentor. Big and strong isn't he." The leader knelt down in her face as she continuously stared levelly. "He's mine. Mentally and physically he follows my orders. He's programmed to do so. If I wanted, I could send him down here to separate your pretty head from your body. He would do it." Mara silently contradicted with a fierce look. The Winter Soldier saw an adoration fill her eyes as her trust of him flowed through her body. She doubted the leader with ever fiber of her being. She believed she knew Hydra's greatest agent better than the one who had control over him. "You glare so convincingly, and yet, where is he now?"

Mara was caught off hand by the comment.

"If you were important, wouldn't he wonder where you have been for two weeks? He's returned from his mission three days ago. He has access to your missions. You don't have anything listed, it's as if you disappeared. Where is he, Mara?"

She looked to her lap. The wheels turning in her head and hesitance began to seep slowly into her features. Her eyes closed as she began to rack her brain for a reason. Surely, he would have noticed her absence. They were partners. Didn't he care? Actually, where was anyone? Hadn't Rumlow or anyone recognized that she was gone? It had been two weeks. Sitting in solitary confinement for fourteen days, and not one person on her team had come to save her. Doubt suddenly took over.

Watching, the Winter Soldier became angry at his own laziness. He had known something was wrong and had decided to ignore it. A gut instinct telling him that she was in trouble, and yet he had not questioned anything or anyone. He had kept his head low and trained, assuming she was gone. Self-hatred surged freely through his veins. Stupid, stupid choice.

"Now you see." The leader's strong voice vibrated through the room. "You're only as important as your usefulness. Follow my orders, and you can enter the ranks again. You can come back to the family." Mara was grinding her teeth out of frustration and confliction. She didn't know what to do. "Mara." She looked uncertainly at the older man. "I need you to kill the runt. You do this and you're a daughter of Hydra again."

Her eyebrows furrowed in disbelief. She glanced at the sleeping puppy, and spoke for the first time. "No." her raspy voice cracked with disuse, a rebellious look in her eyes.

The leader gave her a hard look and raised his voice. "Kill the runt."

She gritted her teeth. "No."

The leader stood and towered over her. "Mara. Kill the runt." He practically screamed the command.

She let the order echo around the room. Her body rigid in conviction and her stare hardening.

"No."

The leader sighed and swiped a tired hand over his eyes. "Is that your choice?" She didn't answer and relentlessly gave a determined look. The leader gave her a last look. "So be it. Dr. York, if you please."

The superior left as a middle-aged doctor entered with three guards. Armed with taser sticks, they circled her. She entered a crouch, protecting the pup underneath her. Baring her teeth, she challenged each guard. The one on her left leapt at her, taser stick ready. She quickly grabbed his arm and took him down. Her knee slammed into his chest as she held him firmly on the ground. Unfortunately, there were two others that promptly tased her when she wasn't looking. Dazed by the shock, she fell to her back and tried not to convulse in pain as her fingers and toes felt like they were on fire. Electricity flowed through her muscles, temporarily paralyzing her.

This was all the young guards needed as they pinned her down. She came to, bucking viciously and thrashing wildly. The doctor stepped closer, hypodermic needle in hand.

"Now, now miss. This will only hurt a pinch." His nasally voice countering her screeching yells. "It's only a nice hallucinogen that will make you think twice about defying Hydra." He placed the point into her elbow without finding the vein or sanitizing. Jamming the liquid into her body, she began to slacken as the drug took hold. The black points of her caramel eyes dilated to dangerous lengths, the soft brown no longer visible. The doctor pulled out the needle and the guards let her go. The one guard that she had taken to the ground picked up the little black pup that had scampered away as the fight occurred. Slowly her face contorted to horror as she began seeing what did not exist.

"Good." The doctor stood over her and checked vitals and eyes. "The drug has taken hold quite quickly. It seems she's very susceptible to it." He stood to walk out the room. "Take her back. Only nightmares will befriend her."

The video cut off and the Winter Soldier found himself unable to tear his eyes away from the touch screen. He was angry with himself for letting this happen, and just as they had come to a truce. There was no reason for her to suffer this much. Whatever her crime may be did not deserve this kind of punishment. This was guerrilla tactics. Reluctantly, he continued only to find more videos of her in the cell. Many of her screaming as she pulled at her hair and ears. Blood seeped through her fingers as she convulsed for hours with no end. It appeared to be two days until the drug wore off and she seemed to finally calm. Her chest heaved with exhaustion.

Again, she was taken into the white room and given the pup. Again, the leader gave the kill order. Again, she said no. Back to the cell she went with screams of agony and haunted eyes. There she would wait until the next visit, and the next, and the next…

The Winter Soldier began to worry she never gave up her morality. Her broken body so frail and weak with fever. He almost wanted her to give up, just to give in and end the torture. Time after time she said no, each time a little weaker than the last. Finally, after another week she seemed completely broken. Her neck seemed to be unable to stabilize her head. It lobbed to the side useless, her eyes as vacant as the day he fought her.

The leader appeared with the same pup. He placed it on the floor and it galloped to the girl. The little runt leaped into her lap, covering her face in wet kisses. Mara didn't flinch nor move. The older gentleman approached the broken woman.

"Mara. Kill the runt."

Suddenly, a movement and a yelp. Moments later, she tossed the small body in front of the leader and it lifelessly crumpled into a pile. Mara's face remained hidden as a slow smile enveloped the leader's face.

"Very good, my child." He waved to the door and it opened abruptly. In came trays piled with food and drinks. Tokens of reward. "You have finally learned your lesson, but this is not the end, you have much to learn and a little upgrade as well."

The trays that swelled with food were laid in front of her but she did not reach for it. There she waited for the order, the command. Anything that told her what to do to avoid going back. The leader once again smirked in victory. This had gone exactly the way he had wanted. Every detail calculated for weeks and it had come through. He now had two very skilled and completely obedient warriors in this dogfight. There was no way Hydra could fail.

"Eat."

She reached for a piece of bread and ate it forcefully. Savoring her reward.

The Winter Soldier closed the folder, he had seen enough. Stealthily he exited the room and stalked to the gym. He destroyed four punching bags that day.

Now, as he walked toward the briefing room, he dreaded to see her there, standing behind him like he once did. A mindless soldier acting as a lap dog to the superiors. He hated to see her like this. Vacant and cold as the winter's ice. He honestly didn't know what to do having never faced this situation before. How do you bring back someone so gone that every attempt seems futile? How did _she _do it? Mara was the one to bring reality to his life and almost unwittingly. Everyday, a little piece of sanity found its way back to him through her. He knew he should return the favor but he had no idea how.

Shaking his head, he stepped into the briefing room. The lights were cast dramatically low as the leader sat back with his hands touching lightly in front of him. Around him were the other superiors. Senators, congressmen, C.E.O's. All men joined for one cause of global domination. Idiotic greedy men. The Winter Soldier stood adjacent to the panel of superiors ready for the mission. The leader, a man already infiltrated deep into S.H.E.I.L.D, their greatest nemesis at the moment, leaned forward and pushed a large manila folder to the mercenary. Opening it, the Winter Soldier found a picture of a dark man with a missing eye. Quickly skimming, he memorized all the details of his target.

Director of S.H.E.I.L.D.

Creator of Avengers Initiative.

Biggest thorn in Hydra's side.

Not exactly surprised he waited for the specifics. The leader leaned back and grasped his glasses. Setting them on the table he looked to his best operative.

"Nick Fury. As you can probably see, he's our biggest threat. He is also the only other person I can't control and has no regard for following commands. Not only that, but he also has access to Insight." Leaning back the leader sighed. "I didn't want it to come to this but he has become wary that something is wrong and it could only be hours before he realizes it's Hydra." Giving the assassin a hard look he continued. "Terminate him."

The Winter Soldier nodded and collected the folder.

"Your objective is to stay out of sight with Mara. You two are the most important pieces of this plan. If it's not necessary, do not become involved. I need you to direct the two strike groups decoying as police. They have the necessary supplies to disable the armored car and kill Fury. If this fails, then get involved and finish the job." The leader stood with the rest of superiors. "Prepare your teams. You ship out in three hours."

The leader headed towards the door, Mara following closely behind. Rage threatened to fill him to the brim

"Winter Soldier." The leader called behind him. "Fury's a friend of mine. Make it quick."

* * *

A.N. Hello everyone! I'm so sorry its been so long and its so short but the next one will be long and is officially the start of CA2WS. Jeez it took awhile to get there but alas we have made it. I would love to thank all the WONDERFUL people who reviewed. I seriously could not have done any of this without you. Thank you thank you thank you! To all who favorited and followed, you too get a gold star! Thank you all and I should be back in a week :)


	11. Fury's Demise

Chapter Eleven

Fury's Demise

* * *

Outfitted Hydra soldiers trotted towards the faux police cars that littered the compound garage. Stockpiles of ammo and artillery within duffle bags were shoved into the backseats and trunks of every vehicle. Double checks of every little detail put into place. Everyone seemed teeming with excitement and purpose, the air filled with an infectious determination. They had two hours before they set out for the middle of Washington D.C. and hunted the man that stood for everything that Hydra hated. This day had been a long time coming and the minutes stretched into hours as everyone waited for initial launch.

The Winter Soldier committed himself to more important things as he organized the mission. Maps of the country's capital lay around a single map along with many different papers and schedules that told of their targets average day. The assassin was pleasantly surprised to find that Nick Fury was a religiously punctual man. He never strayed much more than a minute or two from his set times and kept a very rigid daily pathway. He used the same roads, hallways, and meeting rooms. It was almost obsessive compulsive how strict this man was to his daily routine.

Winter Soldier wasn't entirely concerned about finding him, it was more of keeping him in one place for the team to finish the job. Fury was notorious for finding a way out and eluding death. His car, a completely black 2014 Chevrolet Suburban, was tricked out to the highest level. Bullet and trauma proof windows, steel laden body, gadgets galore, and armored tires. There was no weak spot they could target. Not only was it externally strong, it contained the most modern technology the world had to offer. No doubt some input given from a billionaire genius of course. As long as the director was in that car, there was no way for them to get to him. He had a well-armored and almost impenetrable shield. _Almost_.

Ghost stared at the blueprints intently, analyzing and deciphering a plan. The only way Hydra could possibly pull this off without his help is to take the director by surprise and compromise the windows. The Plexiglas and tempered glass mix could withstand an absorbent amount of damage but not forever. If they could deploy a hit hard enough, then they could break of the glass and get to Fury inside. The assassin went through the armory inventory within his mind. He needed something heavy duty but compact. Silently mulling over the plethora of options, he decided on the Castle Ram. A heavy duty hollowed steel rammer with concrete fill and anchors built in the portable stand. The weapon could take out a heavily armored tank so the S.H.I.E.L.D engineered car should crack open like an egg after a few well-placed hits.

The Winter Soldier glanced to the two soldiers to his right. They were dressed head to toe in SWAT gear and looked the part standing stoically awaiting his command. The two straightened to his attention and looked ahead.

"Get the Castle Ram and put it in the truck."

The tallest nodded quickly and they both marched towards the armory leaving him to look over the plan alone. He analyzed the maps again, deciding the point of interaction, the quicker the better, but Fury was smart. He took all busy and public roads with many prying eyes. The agent frowned deeply and barely caught the sound of someone entering the room. Glimpsing momentarily, he recognized the form and his heart seized in place. He quickly averted his eyes back to the maps and pretended to study it fiercely. The newcomer glided next to him and stood rigidly.

"Mara." He mumbled lowly sparing a glance.

She nodded stiffly without making eye contact, looking solely at the plan in front of them. The silence that had been comfortable and helpful soon became obvious and awkward. He stood tall and studied the maps in front of him but could hardly pay attention to them, not to mention come up with a full-fledged plan. Using his peripherals, he snuck peeks at her robotic stance. It hurt his chest oddly to see her like this and to recognize that he was staring at himself only a year ago. A lot had changed and he hadn't noticed the gradualism of it. This woman was a stark reminder of what Hydra was capable of even now. They hadn't even used brainwashing.

The silence began to grow and he found himself doing something he never thought he could do. Ramble.

"Fury is extremely punctual. He leave his office everyday at six-thirty exactly and drives down these sixteen roads." He pointed at the maps to show her the route. She probably knew all this but he couldn't physically stop himself. It was as if his mouth had a mind of its own. "They're all public roads so the possibility of catching him in a darker area will be nearly impossible. Not only that, his car is upgraded to escape almost every situation. Without us involved, they don't stand a chance."

His finally grasped the control over his flapping vocal cords and backed away from the table. Trying to gather his nerves and act like a professional, he cleared his throat and leaned against a desk a few feet away. Mara remained where she stood, acting as if she hadn't heard anything he just said. Her cold dead eyes roamed the map, scrutinizing the lines drawn. The Winter Soldier looked to her ears; maybe her earpieces were in. Hydra wouldn't leave them in on a mission, would they? It would be completely counterproductive and unnecessary. Finding the pale flesh on the side of her head, he saw nothing metallic. In fact, he saw the holes where they drilled to keep the noise cancellers on.

Shaking his head, he once again glanced back to the map. This was going to be a difficult mission without getting involved. He would rather do this himself than to let these idiots handle it, but Hydra was being exorbitantly cautious with him lately. His ghost story was too important to blow this soon in the new war. Analyzing all the details again, he tried coming up with new plans. His seasoned mind working furiously to work the different routes with no avail.

To his surprise, the dark-haired woman grabbed one of the pens beside her and began writing on the main map. Unable to see, he stepped forward towards the large table. Watching her thin hand write mechanically rigid words and precise arrows, a new plan formed in front of him. This involved an excessive amount of damage but held the largest percentage of success. Surveying her work as she held the pen, he nodded thoughtfully. This could work and they would have a back up plan if Fury decided death was escapable.

He had failed to notice the one path with four stoplights. For anyone else it would seem like an awful place to stage an assassination but as her drawings continued to fill the page, he saw the strategy take form. With any luck, these lights would provide an area where Fury would have to stop. With one of the disguised teams patrolling this strip of four lights, they could properly identify the director and his car. Where as, on a side street another would wait to ram Fury's SUV in surprise. There, with him dazed by a hit, they would have time to box him in, making it nearly impossible for him to escape.

He followed her strokes to a parallel one-way street. That would be where they're transport was and if Fury happened to escape, they could follow without the traffic and spear head him with time to spare. Her plan was thought out and oddly efficient. He had never seen her in this setting even before the torture. Mara never had the capacity to make orders; she liked to follow them willingly. Well, more now than every. Even without looking at her, he could feel the strangeness radiating from her body. This was the longest they had been in the same room since there spar and he saw no change mentally. Physically, there was more meat on her bones and her curves had slowly reemerged from her sunken body.

Mara was starting to look like herself again. Her external husk was beginning to resemble the little bit of light in the shadowed Hydra compound. The Winter Soldier could not determine if it was good or bad, hopefully, the external would reflect the internal. If her body could bounce back, maybe her mind could as well. Feeling himself stare, he quickly looked away.

"This is a good plan. Take it to the units and brief them on the changes." He said lowly, giving her a meaningful stare. Mara glanced at him with dilated blank unseeing eyes before turning with the map in hand.

As she exited the room, the Winter Soldier tried to contain his frustration and funneled it into a shallow sigh. What was happening to him? When did he feel compassion or grief? These were average human emotions, not ones of a mercenary that has taken so many lives that they ceased to mean anything to him. He groaned as he began to feel the headache come again. Every time he began to contemplate his own humanity, a wall blocked his path, furthering him from his goal. Relying on his default reaction, he shut down all emotions and concentrated on the persona he was used to. The assassin. The mercenary. The killer.

His gaze hardened as he headed for the door. He needed to prepare.

* * *

The large black SUV continued to make good time toward their destination. With the plan securely in place, all units were about an hour from their vantage point. There was one SWAT car, nine police cars, and one large Escalade in their caravan. To every other car, it must have looked like a high priority transfer, and Hydra was content to let them think that. The Winter Soldier sat quietly in his seat. After a brief meeting with the superiors and a final okay on the plans, he strode to his transport with plenty of time to spare. Agent Kumed sat in the front seat. At clearance level seven, the dark man remained passive as the organization's prime agent sat beside him in the passenger seat.

Winter Soldier donned his regular gear and silently thanked the tinted glasses as he looked sideways to the rearview mirror. In the back was Mara sitting rigidly. The dark-haired murderess stared blankly at the back of the driver headrest. Her vacant eyes never quivering. Kumed was answering the radio calls. Their car was main base on this mission. All actions and commands came through that radio and they were in control. The dark man turned his black eyes to the male mercenary.

"Permission to deploy, sir?"

The Winter Soldier simply nodded his head, feeling the familiar tingle of adrenaline rush through his veins. He quickly squashed down the feeling. They had two hours ahead of them just to get to the capital and he didn't want to think of what chaos would invade his mind in these passing moments of silence. The silence. Another change to her he saw. Distinctly remembering her hatred for the silence, he glanced back to her again. They had been sitting in the car for nearly ten minutes in complete silence and the Mara he knew would be practically squirming out of her chair in anxiety. She could barely stand thirty seconds in silence without bursting into song or humming little tunes. Her humming had always calmed him.

Recalling a memory long before any of this mess, he remembered a mission they had just outside of Denver. They were both pretty banged up from the explosion of a secret weapons armory that gone awry. Mara had cuts on her face and hands; her only exposed skin, as well as a large gash where glass had cut trough her combat suit. He was a little better but not much. Small slivers of glass irritated his fleshed hand, his mask was torn to shreds, and a few stray glass shards embedded his forehead painfully. Trying for the past few minutes to alleviate the fragments from his skin, he groaned frustrated.

Looking up, she smiled widely at his clenched face, and silently trotted to where he sat and kneeled in front of him. She reached a careful hand towards his forehead. Instinctually, he jerked backward out of her reach, and she quirked a single eyebrow.

"We have to get those out or they'll fester." Giving her a stern glare, the woman rolled her eyes. "Don't be difficult."

Begrudgingly, he moved forward. With deft, attentive hands she started mending and pulling out tiny pieces of glass. Her hands were rough with calluses caused by her profession but they were nurturing nonetheless. A sense of comfortableness settled as she began humming one of her calming melodies. Almost impulsively, he closed his eyes, relaxing into her song. He remembered thinking about her humming while in the Shadow Prison. How off key and horrid it sounded. Now, her songs were beautiful and complex. They soothed his troubled soul.

He never remembered falling asleep to her lullaby but when he woke, it felt like he had slept year's worth of sleep. Instantly he sprung upright in a sitting position, wary of his location. The sun was rising above the firs, so it must of only been six hours of sleep. Confused, he sat back against the wall. Why the hell did he feel so rested?

Beside him, Mara laid asleep in her own troubled dreams, her face clenched in misery. They had a few more hours until rendezvous so he let her sleep. A few minutes passed before he noticed her hands clenching and unclenching. Watching closely, he noticed her body was rigid with anxiety. Had she always slept like this? The woman was always on the other side of the room or on guard while they slept. At first, he decided to ignore it. He had neither business nor the ability to soothe her pain, so why try? He was not her father.

This continued for a few minutes before he caught himself staring endlessly at her sleeping form. Tearing his gaze away he thought back to his own sleep. He couldn't remember the last time he had slept without nightmares, and always the same ones. Explosions, helplessness, falling. Always falling for what seemed like forever into an abyss of darkness and shadows. Finally, when he was able to turn to see is fate, the ground came rushing toward him. As always, he would jerk awake, breathing harder than usual.

This time was different. What had changed? He tried to remember all that happened before he fell asleep. Trying to pick out the glass, Mara coming to help, letting her, and then humming. Humming. That was it. Mulling it over, that was the only thing that he could think was the cause. Intrigued, he turned back to Mara's tense form.

Now, he would never admit or tell this to anyone. Honestly, he would rather die than let anyone know he did this or better yet, kill anyone that found out. He hummed for her. Trying it out at first, his vocal chord protested violently to the new usage. His tone cracked painfully as he tried to remember one of her melodies. He almost dashed the idea completely, embarrassed by his foolishness, when he saw her fists unclench and relax. Encouraged, he tried again and continued until his voice strengthened to the act. Mara face began to soften and her body began to melt from the tight fetal she laid in. Fascinated, he hummed until the sun rose above the first clouds and woke her.

Stretching and rubbing the sleep from her face, she smiled. "I feel great, all things considered." He solely nodded and turned toward the rendezvous with her following. It was his little secret. Another to add to the pile.

Returning to consciousness in the car, he started remembering all the times he hummed for her. They were very rare and sporadic but he was always enchanted at the magic a simple song could enact on Mara. The slackening in her face and the peacefulness that took hold. While at post on their dual missions, he would watch the moon and hum her songs in his deep tenor.

That was before this whole mess happened. Now as he glanced back to her complacent face, he longed to see what the music would do. Maybe it could bring her back. Looking at the dashboard, he remembered Hydra took out all the AM/FM radios in every vehicle. _Prevention from tainting the agents with ideas from the outside_. That's what Hydra told everyone, but he knew the truth. Music enables memories almost as well as smells. The human brain is able repair itself within the familiarity of the sound and piece together past memories. Some washes have even been completely reversed with music, and that was the last thing Hydra needed.

The caravan continued on and the roads began to get crowded with carpoolers and commuters. Washington D.C. was the epicenter for politics and corruption. Its roads the veteran of battles both violent and shadowed. It seemed fitting that S.H.I.E.L.D and Hydra both operated here in one city, one unaware of the others slow invasion. The radio had suddenly burst with commotion as everyone commented upon their whereabouts and locations. They neared their vantage point with twenty minutes to spare and quickly got into position. The Escalade would not be able to watch the altercation up close but they had a man on the top of every building, ready to give the call if they needed to get involved.

Kumed took control and answered all calls authoritatively, sticking to the plan. By the voices filtering through, many of the agents were trying to keep their calm and bury their excitement. Restlessness zapped around the air. Within five minutes all the cars were in place. The SWAT car on the other side, hidden in the alleyway and all the police cars on their respective corners. Now they waited.

The Winter Soldier looked to the side streets, his own adrenaline surging full force. This would be the beginning, no going back now. With S.H.I.E.L.D crippled by the loss of the director, they would be hit by an emergency protocol. There, Hydra's own leader Pierce would settle in with the authority. The council was the last hurdle before his domination over the enemy and they already knew how to deal with those bureaucrats. This was a pivotal moment and all participants could feel it.

The radio quieted. Only the patrolling car had allowance to use the radio to signal the coming of Fury. The two agents in the marked police car gave solemn comments, a few look-alikes. Patiently, the organization held its collective breath in anticipation. Again, a false alarm. The Winter Soldier looked to the clock. Two Minutes. Glancing at Kumed, always a professional, even he could not help but crane his neck around the corner after every claim. His dark face pinched with taught sternness but contained a glimmer of excitement. Looking to the back, Mara sat still as a statue, unmoving from her previous position. Her eyes never darted to the radio or the windows. Just calm unending staring at the seat in front of her. He remained staring until he noticed her returning the favor. Her burrowing chilled glare from her spot. No recognition in her eyes.

"We have a match on the vehicle description. Pulling beside it now."

The voice of one of the agents filtered through, and Kumed tensed.

"Copy."

The Winter Soldier looked to the clock. 6:49 PM. Right on time. Silence again radiated from the radio as everyone prepared for the signal. Seconds felt like minutes in apprehension, when they heard the siren.

Like wolves to a deer, they pounced. The radio enveloped into chaos as the spotters relayed all the action. From the chaos outside, the Escalade listened to the play by play. The crashing of metal upon metal could be heard from even their spot. Mara's plan had worked in surprising Fury. From what the outlooks could tell, the director was hurt and completely cornered. With his back to a metaphorical corner, he apparently was shouting at his car to perform but the thing was locked in place.

With Fury in a bind, the SWAT car swerved onto the scene. A barrage of gunfire's loud noise ricocheted off the tall buildings that surrounded the director's car. Once they had unloaded a whole clip concentrated on the driver's side, they called for the big guns. Men poured from the large van, carrying the Castle Ram. The units worked like precision and in militaristic order. From what the Winter Soldier could hear, everything was going exactly to plan. Kumed stretched out of his seat to see the scene. Thirty seconds after initial contact and the Castle Ram was anchored into the street.

The outlooks continued to describe the scene with excited professionalism and extreme detail. The Castle Ram slammed against the shattering window and Fury looked to be scrambling away into the passenger seat. For one who evaded death so regularly, he seemed to be taking this assassination like a normal person. There seemed to be no defensive or offensive measures in mind as he cowered in the passenger seat. The Winter Soldier sensed the oddness of it and turned to Kumed.

"Turn on the car and prepare for interception at the spear head."

Kumed's eyebrows touched but he did as he was told. The metal-armed mercenary turned all his attention to the radio and waited for the call. He was rewarded twenty seconds later when a high powered machine gun rattled through the alleyways. The outlooker's confirmed. Fury had taken a stand. The Winter Soldier nodded to Kumed and the dark man stepped on the pedal, speeding down the parallel street. He avoided cars lithely and with ease.

"Director Fury is headed down Roosevelt Bridge with four in pursuit. We have men down. Clean up crew is in route to take the bodies. Plan of action?"

Kumed grabbed the radio, speaking into in. "This is Chariot. The Winter Soldier and Mara are in pursuit and will intercept the target. Keep us in contact of any directional change."

"Copy."

Kumed placed the com back and continued to race down the street. His dark eyes drawn in concentration. The Winter Soldier prepared himself by checking all his holders. Knives and guns all accounted for.

"Target has hit the traffic barrier. His only option for escape is 7th avenue. Spear head placed there."

Kumed grunted and turned quickly into the side street and parked. 7th avenue laid in front of the SUV's grill. The Winter Soldier moved to get out before he felt a hand on his shoulder. Looking behind, he was surprised to see Mara's face near his. Her eyes still cold but her head shaking a no. He knitted his eyebrows together and once again made his way outside the car. Mara forcefully grabbed his combat suit and slammed him back into the passenger seat.

"что ты делаешь?" he said through gritted teeth. She had better explain herself. She once again shook her head and unbuckled her seat belt.

"She's right, sir." Kumed spoke from the driver side after watching the altercation. "You need to stay out of sight. You're Hydra's greatest asset and we're not sure the superiors want their ace pulled so quickly."

Mara opened the door and stepped out. With an unchanging face, she pulled the magnetic grenade launcher and threw it onto her shoulder. Sending a last hard look, she pulled on her mask and walked into the partially busy street. She didn't look both ways as she walked to the middle of the two-lane highway. Cars beeped but soon tore away hurriedly after seeing the large gun on her shoulder. That included a large eighteen-wheeler that barreled past a red light to hit the two faux police cars. Her plan had worked. This funneled the director straight into her arms. Kumed and the Winter Soldier watched as she put the grenade launcher to her hip and fired a single grenade. The silver disk skid across the ground before finding attraction to the bottom the armored SUV.

The Winter Soldier didn't know whether to be pissed or impressed as the burning, smoking carcass of the SUV skid past them. The dark-haired woman stepped nonchalantly to the side as it continued sliding and watched it come to a stop. Throwing the empty gun to the side, she paced calmly to the door of the burning car. Smoke enveloped her form, making her seem like the ghost of death himself. A blue light emitted from the black heap, giving the flaming carcass an eerie glow. Pulling one of her solid steel knives from her side, she jammed it precisely in the crack of the mangled door and the frame. Using it as a wedge, she managed to pull off the remains of the door. Crouching, she looked inside.

To her surprise, there was an empty car. Her face creased as she saw the hole through the car and concrete. Sly little director, but death wouldn't give up just now. Behind her, Kumed jogged quickly to the burning mass.

"Did we get him?"

Mara shook her head slowly and stood up straight. Going to her hip, she pulled out a small radar and handed it to the soldier. She also grabbed a band, placing it around her bicep. Kumed looked into her masked face.

"Yes, ma'am."

Grabbing her gloves from her waist, Mara once again knelt down and crawled into the hole feet first. The soldier watched as she disappeared from sight and turned on the radar. The little electronic hand-held beeped to life before a small blip appeared on the screen. He looked both ways and trotted back to transport where the Winter Soldier awaited his return. Upon entering, he noticed the mercenary's tanned goggles on him immediately. The soldier tossed him the radar, which he caught easily. The long-haired man looked at it and demanded an explanation. Kumed repressed a sigh.

"Fury escaped. Mara's following him through the sewers, I presume. I don't know how he did it but he carved his way into the road. She has a tracker on her, which is what you see moving currently. Where as this is unplanned, it's probably for the best. She has that freaky touch thing." The Winter Soldier sent him a cold glare and the dark man just raised his hands defensively. "Just saying. You trained her yourself, so she has to be the best for this. She wont engage, she's just hunting."

The Winter Soldier sat back in his seat, frustration corrupting his face. Kumed was right but he didn't have to happy about it. She was volatile right now and putting her in Fury's path was another way for her to get killed. He knew this was unfair for him to think. She was incredibly capable of handling this mission, but she had never faced someone like Fury. Her targets were usually run-of-the-mill diplomats and ambassadors, not ex-spies and gun-wielding directors. He swallowed this emotion of worry and fear quickly. This was not him. Right?

The Winter Soldier turned to Kumed with the radar in hand.

"Drive."

* * *

Her dot finally stopped moving in a residential area of D.C. The day had faded into night and the van pulled up to the curb of an apartment building. The Winter Soldier stepped out and closed the door, his rifle was strapped heavily on his shoulder. The large caliber and untraceable sniper was his personal favorite and he would make good use of it tonight too. He followed the green blaring dot to an alleyway and pulled out a glove for his fleshed hand. Grabbing onto the brick he hoisted himself up onto the wall. Grappling up the side of the building, he climbed from one window to the next. He reached the roof with little exertion and quickly found her shadowed form against the starry sky.

From his point–of–view, she was sitting on the side of the building with her feet hanging over the edge. Her mask laid discarded beside her, and her head was tilted back, the most languid feature he had seen since her torture. He knew that Mara knew he was there but he assumed she just chose to ignore him, something common the last few days. He quietly paced closer to her and gazed upon her moon-licked face. Mara's eyes were closed and her face almost… peaceful. He didn't know what to make of it until he heard the culprit. A soft tune came from one of the windows. It's brassy orchestra swelling and moving with the wind. That's when he finally understood what was happening.

This had to be one of the first times she had heard music since her capture at Hydra. She had always enjoyed humming and singing, but this had to be a treasure for her, even in this altered mental state. He sat down next to her, with ample room between, and listened to the music as well. This melody in particular was slow and soft, its trumpets only tickling your ears. He felt a little bit of recognition himself but quickly erased it once he gazed at her again.

This was the most relaxed he had seen her in weeks and suddenly that feeling of hope grew a little stronger. Maybe this was the beginning. This form of torture they put her through, it was like nothing he had seen before. He didn't know the durability of it or the lasting side effects. He didn't know if it could be cured with a hit to the head or eased therapy. He didn't know if there was a cure at all, but this moment gave faith that he could bring her back.

The song soon ended and Mara once again opened her eyes. The vacancy and mist were present but a little bit of life hid in the orbs. She turned to the man beside her and stared. Her head turned to the side curiously and she reached a hand towards his face. The Winter Soldier starred at it stunned but didn't move away. He watched as she pressed a rough thumb below his eye and swiped it down. The woman pulled back her thumb to observe it. Rubbing the eye black experimentally between her fingers, she studied the grease. He had forgotten he wore it underneath his goggles that day. It had been unbearably sunny and this helped with the glare on the tan lenses.

Apparently satisfied with her findings, she stood with him following. Standing on the edge she pointed to a lower floor window on the adjacent building. This was where the music flowed from, making it easier for him to keep track. He nodded and gave her the radar back. She grasped it firmly and bent down to grab her mask. Lightly she treaded away with the mercenary's eyes following.

Shaking his head, he concentrated on the mission. It seemed fitting he would start this war, as he had done so many times before. Again he would change the world. For good or bad, he didn't know and couldn't come to care. No matter how this universe changed, he would always be a toy for each side. Bouncing like an unwanted orphan. It didn't matter what side was good or bad, each wanted death and he specialized in just that.

He grabbed the rifle off his back and looked within the scope. This gun had been rigged with an infrared scope, which made this easy for him. He gazed into the building and saw one form, lying sloppily in a chair. With the director in this position, he didn't have a great shot. While determining whether to risk or not, something within the apartment changed.

Another signature appeared in the scope, a tall muscular man entered guarded. He was pressed against the wall, obviously not expecting visitor. When the man turned the corner to see Fury, his body relaxed and stood tall. Another agent. Not his target and with the assassin's vantage point, he doubted the man would be able to do anything to save his director or catch the Winter Soldier. He lined up a shot when the light turned on. The director sorely turned it off and continued the conversation. The mumbling continued until the director heaved to his feet. Perfect.

The sharp-shooter placed the rifle to his shoulder and clamed his heart and breathing, the shot four armor piercing rounds into the tall director's back. Fury fell to the ground and the tall man quickly pulled him into another room. The man's body flared red with heat as the distress flew through his body. A third body entered the apartment. A woman with a gun. The Winter Soldier didn't care. His job was finished. Now it was just up to Rumlow to confirm his death.

Grabbing his gun and strapping it back to his shoulder he made his way to the rendezvous. That's when he heard something he hadn't expected. There was a crashing sound below him as the man with Fury tumbled into a window on the floor below him. The killer went into a sprint. Below him, the man crashed through doors and walls of the building. He had never seen a man do this before so long-haired assassin pushed harder. He was almost to the end of the roof and jumped onto the lower building in front of him. This agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. was hot on his feet as rolled out his fall. He sprinted across the roof as fast as he could before he heard a crash behind him. The sound of metal sang through the air and he turned just in time to catch the large disk coming towards him. For the first time, he silently thanked Hydra for his metal arm; without it, he would have surely lost his head

The man stood. He was humongous. His blonde hair and long face reflected in the moonlight. His eyes were crystal, clenched in confusion. His body heaved in anger not exertion. The Winter Soldier felt a small zap in his body before he sent the metal disk back to its owner as hard as he could. With a last look at the stranger he dropped down below and disappeared into the shadows.

* * *

A.N. Yes I'm back and I am truly sorry. This past month has been absolute shit for me so I haven't found the motivation to write. I made it a little bit longer in hopes of getting into your good graces again. once again, I'm sorry the delay and thank you for understand.

To all who reviewed, favorited, and followed, thank you from the bottom of my heart because i don't know if I would have continued if it wasn't for you. Thank you all who read. You're so important to me.


	12. Defiance

Chapter Twelve

Defiance

* * *

Rumlow was relieved, which is an odd thing to feel in a hospital. The S.H.I.E.L.D director Nick Fury had just died on the operating table twenty minutes earlier and Hill, Widow, and the Cap were saying their last goodbyes. Their sadness saturating the area. Stryker and Rumlow stood down the hall from the room acting as "guards" for the Captain, as if he needed some. They tried to act morose but it came off more artificial than genuine. Stryker had never dealt with Fury personally; they had solely received order from Rogers and worked exclusively by themselves. Plus, with their occupation, death was just the end result. Not many made it into retirement.

Shaking his head from these thoughts, he walked into the side hallway for privacy. The empty hall looked out upon the streets below. The sun had just risen and the light gleamed upon the linoleum floors. No one had slept last night, out of nervousness. He currently was running on hope and adrenaline, and did not doubt everyone else was doing the same. On his throw-away phone, he called the secure line of the leader. He was secretly happy that this would be a good phone call. He had done extremely well lately, and another victory insured his life. He waited patiently as the phone rang three times before the leader's deep voice answered.

"Fury is dead, sir." Rumlow didn't give details. That's how the leader liked it. Straight. To the point.

Pierce sighed from the other line. If the agent didn't know any better, it sounded almost regretful. Sure, the leader and Fury had worked together for years but he always knew this day would have to come. Fury was the enemy and the catalyst to guarantee success in this war. With him gone, S.H.I.E.L.D. was vulnerable and disorganized. It was like killing the queen and watching the hive slowly envelop into chaos. Finally, his superior spoke. "Very good. The Winter Soldier, I assume?"

"Partially, sir. Mara tracked him to the Captain Rogers' house. The Winter Soldier shot him four times through the chest. The damage was extensive and he died on the table." Rumlow paused for the leader. After not receiving a reply, he continued. "Apparently, Director Fury escaped to the apartment to leave some parting words. Rogers and Fury spoke for one minute and eleven seconds, but it's very vague. The files are being transferred to you at this moment. We did not have cameras in the residence so any exchange of items or material was not observed."

"Alright." The deep baritone called from the other side. "Bring Captain Rogers to me immediately. Fury was suspicious of Project Insight and you were there when he extracted hostages from the Lemurian Star. Sitwell was on that ship. Lord knows what Fury could have found."

Sitwell. Rumlow revolted at the thought. Sitwell was one of the pencil pushers Pierce put in charge of Project Insight. The man was incredibly pompous, snarky, and self-serving. Rumlow didn't trust him as far as he could throw the bald arrogant man. If there were a poster child for squealers, it would be him. The only reason Pierce kept him was his tenacity. The man hadn't failed yet and could hold his own around the corrupt senators and political creatures. He had snaked himself into the chairs of S.H.I.E.L.D faster than anyone had before. Rumlow had to give him a little credit.

The tanned agent cleared his throat before replying a "yes, sir" and hung up. Walking into the main hallways again, he met up with Stryker. The men leaned on the walls nonchalantly. They were trained mercenaries and loyal to Hydra. Rumlow had worked with them for over two years but it still didn't feel as familial as Valkyrie. There was something about Valkyrie that blended so nicely and fluidly that everything else couldn't compare. Stryker was all the same. Big, buff men with attitude problems and a thirst for killing. Valkyrie was diverse. Ogma, the large oaf. Stupid but powerful and efficient. The Winter Soldier. The quiet assassin with skills that would put every other person to shame. Mara. The spit-fire with senses that seemed extra-human. Finally, himself. The weapons expert. Separate, they were strong, but together they were unstoppable. Rumlow hated that it was all gone, and at the price of Mara's freedom. If there were one thing he could change, one thing he could go back in time and stop, it would be her torture. Her eyes stilled haunted him now. That could be him.

Just that single thought pushed him harder to succeed. He saw the consequences of failure and insubordination and quickly decided he'd rather die than lose himself to Hydra's torture. Thinking of Mara's transformation, he meditated on the thought of self. He knew who he was, where he came from, and what he had done. There were memories that he wouldn't trade for humanity and some that he buried deep within, but that was what made him Brock Rumlow. Hydra now specialized in changing that. Ripping away someone's past and replacing it with their own fabricated world. They created silent puppets on strings, dancing them to the drums of war. He could not fail. He would not fail.

Nervously running a hand through his hair, he thought only of briefing the men. The plan was simple. Reveal nothing. They were to escort Rogers to the leader's office and wait for the leader's command. S.H.I.E.L.D was on high alert at the moment, so looking like they wanted to protect its assets would be main priority. They were tip-toeing on egg shells.

The Stryker unit all nodded their heads understanding. Rumlow turned to look down the hall. The Captain stood with his back to the agent, talking to Romanov. They seemed to be in a heated discussion. Roger's back was tense and guarded and Black Widow seemed to glare angrily. Rumlow watched for a few seconds before calling down the hall.

"Cap." The tall man turned toward to him, acknowledging his call. "They want you back at S.H.I.E.L.D." Rogers nodded and gave a distracted "yeah. Give me a second" before turning back to the redhead. Rumlow sighed, aggravated that he had to be the one to do this. "They want you now."

The Captain looked back suspiciously and gave a measured "okay." Rumlow immediately realized his folly and left it at that. He needed to act protective. He needed to act like he would give his life for the patriotic hero. Trotting back to Stryker, he glimpsed behind him to see Black Widow sauntering away heatedly. Roger's looked disheartened and confused while walking to the group of men. Rumlow pointed to the exit and spoke into his earpiece, telling both S.H.I.E.L.D. and Hydra that Captain America was coming back.

Walking outside into the black van, all the men loaded in and headed back to the main Hub. Rumlow sat beside the Cap and refused to look at him. He didn't know how much more of this he could take. A long year and a half of living two lives and he was tired. He was tired of lying and coming up with excuses. He didn't want to have to watch his back or fear his phone was bugged every day. He just wanted this to be done. Go back to way things used to be, when he was only under Hydra and he knew his friends from his foes. Now, he didn't know who was who anymore. He was undoubtedly loyal to Hydra but he couldn't help but hold something akin to respect for Captain America.

The man was loyal and just. He fought for what was right and Rumlow just wished it wasn't for S.H.I.E.L.D. He wouldn't mind fighting along side him as a team. He would fit perfectly into Valkyrie. Hell, he could replace Ogma for all he cared. But that would never happen. Valkyrie was in shambles and Mara gone, her mind lost to the abyss, and if this was going the way he thought it was, Captain Rogers would soon be no more. Pierce hated insubordination more than anything, and this American symbol was just the person to stand up to the leader.

Rumlow repressed a weary sigh. The war hadn't even begun and he was already tired of fighting.

* * *

_Arrest Captain Rogers._

Rumlow read the message twice as his stomach sank. From this new order, he assumed the meeting did not go as planned. Roger's was always loyal to Fury no matter how angry he was, so this was no surprise. Pierce wanted to know what intel Fury had to cause his sudden suspicious, and so close to the launch date of Project Insight. The Cap was the last person to see him before he died so he had to have it.

The Stryker leader thought about what arresting Captain America would mean. They would torture him, make him bleed, and ultimately get the info or kill him. Maybe even both. Pierce would see it as killing two birds with one stone.

He groaned and called Stryker into formation. They had planned for this already. The leader had made his intentions clear when they drove back to S.H.I.E.L.D., and gave direct orders for Rumlow to formulate a plan if, as expected, Rogers didn't hand over the intel. Stryker thoroughly thought out a strategy. This was no ordinary man they were detaining. This was Captain _fucking_ America. A harder target could not be found. They went overboard and thought of any way they could guarantee a successful mission and bring Rogers into custody.

Rumlow checked his weapon of choice. A taser stick with enough electricity to take down a full-grown rhinoceros. Stryker was not to harm Captain America in any way. He was valuable and Hydra made exceptions to those who were worth the extra time. The man was a loaded tank with enough muscle to wrestle a platoon single-handedly, and the organization could make due with a little extra manpower. The more Rumlow thought of it, the more he saw Pierce's gears turning.

It all made sense now. He wanted Captain America. What was to stop him from taking the patriotic man and pulling a Winter Soldier? Wipe the national icon and creating another dancing puppet to play as his lap dog, numb to free will and independence. With the Winter Soldier, Mara, _and _Captain America, the organization would be unstoppable. A force not unlike a tornado, sucking the land of life and leaving a wake of destruction behind. Hydra would achieve its goals even if the world did not adopt them willingly. By force, and with the face of their once protector at its helm. Failure would be an impossibility.

Something alike to panic seized his body as he met two of the Stryker team in front of the elevator. Hydra's dark plan now clear as day, and he was fighting for it. Confusion flowed through his body as he looked to the men at his side. Their blank stoic faces only portrayed their readiness for their mission, nothing but belief in Hydra leading them. Their greed for power stemming from the theory that this secret organization would come out the victor after the bloodshed ended. With how events played out recently, he couldn't blame them. Hydra was in the prime location with threads to every other opposing adversary. They had people with power in almost every organization in the world. Time had passed and they had used it wisely.

The elevator dinged at its arrival and the heavy metal doors opened to reveal the back of the man in question. The patriotic man, in full regalia, looked to the Potomac with a heavy head and tense shoulders. As Rumlow and the two others entered, he called "forensics" to the professional woman's voice. The Cap, hearing a familiar voice, turned to see Rumlow looking at him. The blonde nodded a short greeting and the Hydra agent returned the favor quickly. Dread seemed to fill his lungs. Rumlow looked at the man and could only imagine what they would do with him. What they did to Mara. What they could do to him. Swallowing the swelling feeling, he set his mind to his task. If he succeeded, he would save his own hide from the chair. Pushing aside all loyalties, self-preservation powered him.

"Evidence response found some fibers on the roof they want us to see. Do you want me to get the tag team ready?" He pushed the words forcibly from his lungs, willing his vocal chords to work. He remembered his training, trying to swipe away the nervousness.

The Captain looked at him levely, gauging his answer. He seemed on edge already. Pierce's interrogation must have made him suspicious and now Rumlow was going to have to control the situation without raising alarm.

"No. Let's see what is first." Rogers answered calmly. His face stony.

"Alright." The agent looked away to the side facing the two he arrived with. He could feel the Captain's eyes on him, analyzing his every move. Nervously, he shifted his weight from foot to foot, turning slowly to face the elevator doors as the dinged again. The doors opened again to four sharp looking men with briefcases. They were holding a conversation on God knows what and ambled into the glass elevator. Four more fakes. Four more to take down the man who almost solely destroyed their organization sixty years ago. Rumlow bit his tongue saying something stupid and nodded a greeting.

One mumbles "administration" to the control panel and joins the group again. They slowly push to the back of the elevator, making the Cap shift forward right behind him. The only sound comes from the group in the back, their hushed voices filling the cube with unrecognizable gibber. One more stop before it began. Rumlow could feel his heart start to rush and his palms begin to sweat. He can feel the tall target's breath against his neck and can't help but feel guilt for what he's about to do. As a last minute repentance, he turns back a last time, giving some of the most true words he had said in a long time.

"Sorry what happened to Fury." He paused, trying to figure out the right thing to say next. Finally conjuring the words, he finished. "Messed up what happened to him." He turned his face away. Shielding from showing the true emotion.

He feels Rogers huff a sigh before answering with a strong "thank you". He couldn't tell if it was genuine or not but hoped he got his point across. No matter what happened in the next twenty seconds, he still respected him as a soldier and leader. It was just a shame that they played for different teams.

The elevator dinged one more time. The last time. Large metallic doors opened to the last three members of Stryker and Rumlow realized how obvious this was. He repressed a weary groan as the three large men pack themselves into the back of the elevator, pushing Captain America closer to the door. Why the hell would the team be apart on different floors? As the last pieces fell in place, Rumlow said a silent prayer.

"Before we get started. Does anyone want to get out?" The Captain's deep voice echoed within the elevator and Rumlow swore his heart stopped.

In the blink of an eye, chaos ensues and one of the large agents charges at the S.H.I.E.L.D. operative with a tase stick in hand. As he diverted the Cap's attention, one of the men Rumlow entered with slammed his hand onto the console, freezing the elevator in place and pounced on the Captain too. Rumlow is pushed to the back of the cramped cube in the mayhem and the large body of the man that attacked Rogers barreling into him. Quickly standing to his feet, he looks to the suited man and finds himself standing still, unable to participate. His nerves seemed to sizzle with fear. He was afraid of the man in front of him. It was as if he was staring at Hercules, an unbeatable enemy, only armed with a marshmallow gun.

Two of the businessmen dressed in their nice suit pulled the handles off their briefcases creating electrically magnetized handcuffs. They were heavy duty and could hold a raging gorilla in place. It was the only hope of their plan succeeding. If he only has one hand or even no hands, they might have a chance. Many of the men try to hold Rogers arms still and one of the men succeed in getting right handcuff on. Now, just to get it magnetized to the metal door and they would be home free. There's a struggle for control and the Cap tried desperately to leave as much space between his wrist and the door. Springing into action, he began systematically taking down man after man. He's like a well-oiled machine, a rhythm of efficiency blocking and delivering hits like it was second nature. He even had the largest man in the elevator Roscoe's arm wrapped around his throat and acting as if it wasn't a problem. Rumlow had seen him on missions but this was fighting for one's life. This was dirty and instinctual. More than that, it was terrifying.

The second handcuff was lost when Rogers aimed a powerful kick to a suited man's face and Rumlow realized this isn't going to be easy at all. One-armed Captain America was still a dangerous Captain America. The glass of the elevator begins cracking against the hits of his comrade's bodies against them. Within seconds, the tank of a man has disarmed and knocked out almost half the team. With a large groan, he flipped the man choking him over his shoulder.

Rumlow then realized, there aren't many people left between him and the engineered super soldier. He grabbed his tase stick and fought for his life. Kicking his foot up, he was able to catch the Cap's wrist and send it sailing to the metal door. With one hand encumbered, Rumlow felt a little better about his chances and turned on the taser. Throwing an arm toward the large man, he aimed for the shoulder, but was blocked. He punched his fist as a last ditch effort and missed as well, but Rogers left his back open after deflecting. Seeing the weak spot, he rammed the stick as hard as he could into the patriot's back.

Rogers tried to shield himself as much as possible but the electricity running through his body was debilitating. Rumlow pushed harder. He couldn't believe it. The tase sticks had enough voltage to knock out a grizzly bear with a single tap, not to mention a human, and he was still fighting off a constant shock. The blonde braced against the door, trying to fight the white spots in his eyes and threw back an elbow straight into Rumlow jaw. Another man charged and Rogers easily grasped his jacket and threw him into the corner.

Rumlow could hear Sitwell's annoying voice tersely sending commands to other tactical groups. The pencil pusher thought he couldn't win, and to most it seemed inevitable, but he could not fail. It didn't matter if he was the only one left, he wasn't going down without a fight. He was keeping his freedom. He wouldn't be made into a mute puppet obeying orders unquestionably.

Getting up quickly, he saw the Cap immobilize the last of the men with him and escape from his fetter. Grabbing a fallen tase stick along with his own, he slowly reached out an arm, huffing.

"Woah there, big guy." He said trying to placate the towering man. His blue eyes were stony set fiercely upon him. He gave an unforgiving scowl as the two stood on opposite sides, staring each other down. "I just want you to know, Cap. This isn't personal."

As he muttered the last word, he rushed forward with one of the sticks high swung it down. The Cap grabbed the first and tried to deflect the taser jamming straight into his abdomen but couldn't in time. Taking his free hand, the patriot hit away Rumlow's captured arm and aimed another fist to his face. Rumlow dodged and secured Rogers arm again, ramming the tase stick into his stomach again. He grunted at the force he put into it, trying to put down the behemoth in front of him.

For a second, he had hope he was winning. He was slightly overpowering Captain America. If he was able to do this, he would be praised. That's all he wanted. Security in himself. Pushing harder, he put his weight into it. That's when Rogers fist made contact with his face, sending him off balanced toward the floor. The large man placed his arms around Rumlow's body and suddenly he was in the air, sailing towards the ceiling. Sparks flew as he hit the lighted ceiling and the last thing Rumlow remembered was the ground coming to meet him.

* * *

Pierce was tired. Exhausted, he dared say. Today had been a very trying day for the leader of the most powerful, not to mention secret, organization in the world and all because of one man. The engineered super soldier was beginning to be a real thorn in his side. Not only had he demolished the entire Stryker team and some of his best agents, but also crashed an aircraft single-handedly with just a shield. Pierce had to give the man some respect. Not only had he loyally kept Nick Fury's secrets, but also jumped thirty stories out of an elevator to avoid being captured. If that wasn't commitment, he didn't know what was.

After that whole debacle, he had to make the speech of a lifetime to those at S.H.I.E.L.D., convincing them that Rogers had gone rogue. The event could not have played out any better. Fury just happened to pick Captain America, the most secretive but patriotic man in all of S.H.I.E.L.D. to confide in. Not only was the man completely incapable of lying, he acted suspicious without even meaning to. Painting him to be the withholding enemy he needed was painfully easy. The director had died in his apartment, was the last to talk to him. Anyone could turn that into an Oscar winning turncoat story.

On top of that, he played the sentiment card. Humans were so easy. All he had to do is say a few "my dear friend"s and some compliments to the late director's life, and all of S.H.I.E.L.D. practically climbed into his hands willfully. The only one who seemed to question his command was the alumni's kid, Agent 13. The niece to some higher up of the past, Agent 13 was on site when Fury was shot. Although she didn't have any idea of the material or conversation between Rogers and the director, as she said when she debriefed, he was going to have to watch her. She had insolence and righteousness written in her eyes, and he couldn't stand to even look at it. She even held herself haughtily. When Hydra took over, she was one of the first who would have to go. Maybe the algorithm already knew that and it would be taken care of immediately. He could only hope.

Later that morning, after a stern conversation with Rumlow, he sent a tactical team to the national mall. Apparently, Rogers had teamed with Black Widow to decipher whatever they had received from Fury. The thought of Black Widow brought another angered thought to him. Today, woman had defied him constantly. He already believed them inferior to his male gender, and seeing them slowly climb the professional ladder enraged him something fierce. That woman on the council Hawley especially. They didn't belong in this world of war. Battle was a man's game and they had no part in it. Until Mara, he had never allowed females within the ranks of Hydra. They were weak-minded and flighty, but Mara was special. She was loyal from the beginning and willing to please. Breaking her defiance had been satisfying and empowering. Her slow descent into mute compliance invigorating. He couldn't help the tightness in his pants as she succumbed to him, doing as he pleased.

Pulling his thoughts away from the only female of Hydra, he mediated on the events of the mall. He found himself unsurprised when they vanished before Stryker could grab them. Black Widow was the queen of disguise and shadow. She had escaped every instance of capture her whole life, and he wouldn't exactly say that this time had probably been on of the easiest. Romanov must have taught Rogers a few techniques because he was as recognizable as the Statue of Liberty, and probably just as tall.

They had escaped and gotten all the way to Wheaton, New Jersey in a hijacked car and even made it on base. He bet Rogers had a nice instance of déjà vu. Right in the middle of Wheaton, New Jersey was Camp Leigh, the first training grounds of Captain America. It also happened to be the first Hub of S.H.I.E.L.D., and the birthplace of the second coming of Hydra. A place of memories you might say. The two were smarter than he expected and found themselves in the basements of primary S.H.I.E.L.D.

That's when he got the notice from Zola. The Swiss doctor had been invaluable during the rebirth of Hydra and Pierce owed the man a lot, but the semi-deceased man could grind on the leaders nerves more than anyone. The now-digital man was more arrogant and misogynistic than even himself, which although impressive, was extremely exhausting to deal with. Out of respect and the need for the algorithm, he had kept the man alive after his cancer diagnosis through his many databases and kept him a secret. Zola built the Winter Soldier and succeeded in giving Hydra the weapon to turn decades to their favor. There were many things for Hydra to be thankful for, but only few knew of Zola's existence anymore and now he was gone.

The Hydra doctor had delightfully stalled Rogers and Romanov until he was able to get two fighter jets to that location and obliterate them. If it had been successful, he would have figuratively killed two birds with one stone. Getting rid of the annoying doctor and the dynamic duo causing trouble. That was if it had been success. He doesn't know how, but they had gotten away. Rumlow tracked them all the way until where he assumed the stolen car was and lost the scent.

Sitting in his Corinthian leather chair, he silently seethed. It was going to be hard to sleep tonight. The stress and anxiety from years of secrecy and silence, slowly building something to be great, and at last minute, it may be thwarted by some duo with a hero complex. Pierce rubbed his eyes tiredly. He just wanted to sleep. Laying in bed for an hour, he had just tossed and turned on the memory foam, unable to get comfortable. Giving up, he took to brooding, thinking, and planning for the future. But mostly brooding.

Milk. That may be the key to actually getting some sleep tonight. His mother had always given it to him when he couldn't sleep. Even as an adult, the scent of milk brought warm memories to mind. He had loved his mother dearly. She had been docile and compliant. Knew her place. Women nowadays had forgotten what it was to be a lady like his mother. They tried to be men to compete in the savage world they lived in. Pierce sighed. That would have to change. As soon as Hydra came into power, rules would be set in place, boundaries applied. None of this equality. Women are women and men are men. Final.

He heaved himself from the chair and silently padded from his bedroom down the hall to the kitchen. Seeing the silver Kia, he concluded Renata must still be here. He liked Renata. She was quiet and friendly, did her job efficiently. Before her, he didn't know how clean his house could actually be. He looked to his watch. Ten. She would be leaving soon.

Rounding into the kitchen, he pulled open the refrigerator. Pulling the milk carton out, he went to place onto the counter when he saw two shadows outlined against the moonlight. They sat silently at the high-top table patiently. He closed the fridge slowly and stood looking at them while they sat him.

"I'm going to go Mr. Pierce." A voice calls from the front door. Renata. "Do you need anything before I leave?" Her sweet voice carries into the kitchen clearly.

Pierce pauses, trying to make his voice seem like he didn't have his two best assassins sitting in his kitchen. "No. It's fine, Renata. You can go home."

He hears her bag rustle and her open the door. "Okay! Night. Night."

"Goodnight." He calls after her, waiting for the door to close. After the soft clunk of the door closing, he turns back to his mercenaries. "Care for some milk?" he smirks and grabs a glass for himself without waiting for a reply. He knew they would never answer back, as they should. He gazed at them. They were so different from each other. Her thin tiny silhouette against his large shadow. Seeing them together, he remembers finding out about her little crush on the Winter Soldier. How mad he was. He enjoyed seeing the loyalty in her eyes fade out as he reminded her that the man she cared for was Hydra's. That would never change.

"Good job you two. Fury is dead, but unfortunately, the timetables have moved." He poured the white liquid into a glass and placed the milk back on the counter. "Our window is limited."

He padded slowly to the table and sat in an open chair. "Two targets. Level six." He sat back smugly, giving orders. "They already cost me Zola. I want confirmed deaths in ten hours." He looked the Winter Soldier directly. "The targets have already seen you, so no need for precautions." He then turned to Mara who seemed to be staring past him. "The world has already seen you cause a scene in the middle of Washington D.C. so you're going too." Pierce felt as if he was speaking to himself half the time, that they didn't really exist. The two just stared silently. He looked at Mara to see her eyes jump to his left suddenly. His brows knitted together, wondering why the sudden alertness. He turned to the opening to kitchen where her eyes led him. Around the corner came Renata in a tizzy.

"Sir, I left my phone." She gave a hesitant smile and pointed to the phone beside his hand.

Looking back to the seats adjacent to him, he saw nothing. His two assassins gone like smoke. He smiled. _Smart girl. _Grabbing the phone and the glass, he set the glass in the sink and handed the phone to Renata.

He gave a sly smile. "Careful, Renata. You almost scared me to death."

* * *

A.N. What this? Two in one month and at a decent time? That's right. Unfortunately, this is a filler piece but next is the big whammy. I'm a bit impatient to get there because its going to be so good.

So first note, I took some liberties with Rumlow and Pierce. This is how i pictured their brains and tried to pick apart their psyches when they did certain things. I hope you all can understand why I wrote what I did. It may not be a popular opinion, but in the story, this is who they are beneath the masks and disguises.

P.S. Renata is the maid of Pierce that actually gets shot in the movie. If you've only seen it once or twice, you may not remember her.

Hope you all enjoyed! Thank you to all those who review, favorite, and follow! I love you dearly and you keep me going.


	13. Help

Chapter Thirteen

Help

* * *

This was not how Sam Wilson saw his day going at all.

He woke up, as usual, at the break of dawn to his own nightmares of explosions and falling, breathing harder than usual. Shaking his head, he heaved out of bed and walked sleepily to the drawers in bedroom. Tying the laces to his shoes, he made his way to the reflections pools in front of the Lincoln Memorial. The long mirrored waters, surrounded by large white buildings and monuments, were usually desolate at this time of the morning. The only other person he saw out at this time was the American icon Steve Rogers whizzing by like a torpedo. Sam smiled a little at this thought and began his jog around the calm pools a little faster than his regular speed. Maybe one day, even he, a retired army soldier, could keep up with the engineered man. Sam shook his head at the silly thought and continued.

After a few laps, he pinched his sides and regretted the extra speed. Sweat poured profusely from every orifice, and somehow, this made Sam a little proud of himself. Sweat meant that he was pushing himself, a hard thing to do when suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Catching his breath, he walked back home feeling better than this morning. The cool air of the house sent chills up his exposed arms but felt refreshing nonetheless. He was about to down a large gulp of orange juice straight from the jug, a habit he had grown used to as a bachelor, when a knock sounded on his porch door. Sam wearily put down the jug and stepped carefully to the back of the house. He wasn't expecting any visitors today and his soldier's instinct made him glance around for a weapon he could use, just in case.

The last thing he expected was the man he thought of this morning, and his red-headed partner. His brows furrowed at their disheveled appearance and he immediately was on guard. There faces were black from soot and smoke, and their clothes torn. Steve gave an apologetic look and told him that there was nowhere else they could go. The pretty woman also claimed that everyone they knew was trying to kill them and Sam ushered them in quietly, closing the blinds behind them. Sam instantly honed into the warrior in him. Captain America needed _his _help, and he'd be damned if he was going to let him down.

Sam had grown up, like every other child, to the stories of the great Captain America that sacrificed everything to make sure the world wasn't overrun with power-hungry psychopaths. As a kid, he remembered dressing up for Halloween as the red, white, and blue hero and parading it proudly around his childhood suburbia. Naturally, when Sam heard that _the _Captain America was back, pulled and unfrozen from a wreck in the ice, he went to the nearest base and enlisted in the army. Quickly, he rose in the ranks. The officers regaled it as raw talent and he was put into a Special Forces team where he met Riley. He thought all was great. He was serving his nation just like his idol and was kicking ass while doing it.

It had all gone well until Bagmalal. The RPG swarmed them and it was impossible to maneuver around it all. They had held out for twenty minutes amongst the explosions until one got Riley. Sam could still see the burning, lifeless body of his partner falling from the sky. He almost gave up then. Almost gave into the idea of death, but his body took over, moving him out of danger's way in self preservation. Within five minutes, help had arrived. _Five minutes. _That was all it took for him to survive and Riley to die. After the mission, he found it hard to continue his service. He was honorably discharged and given the life of a citizen.

Sam had just gotten used to the idea of being his own man when he was passed by none other than Steve Rogers, running from his own demons, it seemed. Sam could hardly believe the irony. He joins the army just in the hopes of fighting with Captain America, and now as a civilian he had a chance. So once the two exited his bedroom after cleaning up and started strategizing their next move, he took all of three seconds to decide to join them. Giving them the plan of the Falcon wing suit and a picture of him and his late partner, Sam had offered himself as a worthy companion in their time of need. Steve had given him a measured look telling him that he didn't need to put himself in danger for them. The haunted look behind the blue eyes telling Sam that there had been others like him before. Others that had answered the call and fallen.

Sam simply smiled and assured the Captain that he was willing to take the risk. Not only for his country, but for his role-model. Steve and Natasha, the fire-haired woman, quickly set out to Camp Meade and returned in a few short hours carrying the wingsuit with them. Sam was impressed and asked how on earth they had gotten past the very strict and fortified security. The tall, muscled Steve just shrugged his broad shoulders, pointedly looking at Natasha as she gave a sly smile. Sam smiled at the two and they continued on with their plan.

Step one was to get to Jasper Sitwell. From what Natasha and Steve were able to figure out, Sitwell was one of the people who had this algorithm that was associated with an organization called Hydra. Sam remembered little of Hydra from his childhood stories, but could definitely recall that they were defeated by the man he currently had in his company. After a long-winded, albeit summarized, explanation, Steve explained that Hydra had secretly grown again, but within S.H.I.E.L.D. causing all the drama now. Steve and Natasha had been trying to figure out what the algorithm did, and the person who was going to tell them was Sitwell.

Coercing him into the car was easy enough. The man valued his life over everything else in the world. A quick phone call and high-powered laser pointer were all that was needed to get the bald man to comply with his commands. Once in the car, Steve and Natasha had taken over. Sitwell remained quiet in his seat, disdainfully looking down his nose at the both of them. Seeing that they were getting nowhere, the group took a quick fieldtrip to the top of a nice tall skyscraper and Sitwell had tried his hardest to remain brave and haughty. That lasted until Black Widow put a boot in his chest and toppled him over the side of the building. Sam could hear the screaming of the terrified man above and quickly soared to catch him.

The look on Sitwell's wide-eyed face was priceless as his mouth open and closed, resembling a fish even more with his bald head. Placing him none too softly on the rooftop once again, he had instantly talked. Sam could feel the adrenalin coursing through his veins again and felt an ecstasy like no other. It was short lived as Sitwell began to ramble on. The algorithm was much more dangerous than they had anticipated. There were three helicarriers, which would never need to land, disembarking tomorrow with enough guns and firepower to kill millions. That algorithm was the key. It provided the targets that endangered Hydra's uprising and exterminated them. Steve and Natasha looked to each other wildly as they realized how much worse the situation was.

This brought Sam to his current position. Driving a black Chevy sedan with two of Washington D.C.'s most wanted and a head of a terrorist organization. The last few minutes had been silent, each person in the car mulling over his or her present situation. Sweat slicked Sam's hands to the wheel as he thought about all the information he had absorbed this day. He now had a large target on his back. It was easy to avoid people, but pin-point precise biometric bullets? There was no outrunning that.

"Hydra doesn't like leaks." Sitwell spoke up from the back nervously. He had been fidgeting for the past ten minutes, looking out the window sporadically in search of an assailant.

Sam was beyond annoyed with the man with wire-rimmed glasses. He gripped the wheel tighter so he wouldn't turn around and hit him.

"So why don't you try to stick a cork in it." He glared back at the Hydra agent through the rearview mirror. Sitwell shut his mouth but continued to dart his eyes apprehensively.

"They're launching in 16 hours." Natasha leaned forward towards the two men in the front. "Cutting it kind of close here."

Steve sighed deeply and looked out the window. "I know." He looked back in the mirror at Black Widow and continued. "We'll use Sitwell to bypass all the DNA scanners and access the helicarriers directly."

Sitwell livened to this remark. Looking directly at Steve he leaned forward in his chair, taking his gaze from the window for the first time.

"What?" His voice came out incredulous and his face shadowed in disbelief. "Are you crazy?" From the look in his eyes, he thought Captain America was just that. He shook his head in disbelief. "That is a terrible, terrible id-". The bald agent wasn't able to continue when a large thump vibrated from overhead. Everyone looked up simultaneously at the strange sound and suddenly the window crashed open and a hand grabbed Sitwell from his seat. The man went flying into opposite oncoming traffic and promptly run over by a moving truck.

In a flurry of motion, Natasha launched herself into the front seat, pulling Steve with her and kicking a foot into Sam's shoulder. A bullet narrowly whizzed by both Steve and Sam's head. Rogers, finally grasping the concept they were being attacked, reached for the gearstick and slammed it into park. The car came to a grinding halt, throwing whoever was on top of it, off. A form in all black came tumbling to the asphalt in a series of rolls and landed in a crouch. All three stilled stunned, staring at the man that had nearly killed them. His face was covered in a black mask and Sam could have sworn he heard Natasha gasp quietly.

Their pause was momentary when a large SUV rammed them from the back. Sam did his best to maneuver away from this assassin but the force of the SUV was too much for the suspension. The car drew nearer to the man and it looked like they were going to run him over. At the last second, he flipped onto the hood of the car, smashing the windows under his weight. Sam instinctively pressed on the brakes hoping to throw him off again, but it was no use. A metallic arm crashed through the front window and grasped the wheel, effectively yanking it out of the car. "Oh shit" Sam yelled as he sat back in the seat, looking haplessly to the other two.

Natasha, still in Steve's lap, aimed one of her pistols at the masked man, but he was gone. Looking back, a black blur jumped back to the ramming SUV. The car, free from the push of the larger car, swerved wildly between other cars, bouncing off them like a sixty mile-a-hour pinball machine. This is _not _what Sam expected from today.

Steve, acknowledging that this would not end well while staying in car, held firmly onto Nat and yelled at Sam to hold on. The dark man clung to the blonde and prayed for luck. Next thing he knew, they were surfing down the interstate on a car door in something that resembled a dog-pile. Sam covered his head, trying to deflect anything vital from the debris of the crashing, tumbling car, and finally rolled away onto the asphalt of the highway. His skin was seared from the abrasions the road gifted, but he didn't have time to think of that. He stood to see that both Natasha and Steve seemed to be fine and unscathed.

Sam almost wanted to smile in relief, but it was cut short by something that sounded like a firecracker before it exploded. An explosion of flames enveloped Steve and he flew of the interstate into the streets below. He didn't have time to see if Steve was alright before a barrage of bullet ricocheted off the cars. Four men had emerged from the SUV and with them came high-powered assault rifles. Natasha gave Sam a meaningful look and crouched behind one of the stopped cars. He nodded his head in response and made his way slowly back to the demolished sedan. Looking back periodically, he saw Black Widow had drawn the fire towards herself by firing from the two pistols in each hand. Another grenade rocketed through the air and the red-head left over the highway divider in time. Sam continued his hurried jog back to the black smoldering heap. He looked inside for anything that could help at this moment. Finding a knife, he turned back just in time to see Natasha fly off the other side of the highway.

"Shit. Shit. Shit." He chanted as a mantra. He glanced back at the assault team and realized that none of their attention was directed to him. Silently he thanked whatever luck was on his side and slowly made his way towards them. The leader with the metal arm peered over the edge with a rifle in hand. Sam saw him jump back and crouch for cover as a pistol sounded below. Sam snuck a glance over the side and saw Natasha firing a slew of bullets. The corner of his mouth twitched in amusement at her tenacity and continued the slow crawl towards the opposing group. With just a knife, he wouldn't have a chance against a few trained professionals and a metal-armed assassin. No, he would have to buy his time.

The leader again stood, this time missing his goggles. He fired a few rounds towards Natasha's cover as she fired back.

Running out of bullets, she dashed away in the cover of some cars. The leader had obviously disagreed with this turn of events and muttered something in a low voice before hopping of the side of the interstate on to a car. He leisurely leapt off the car and pursued the fire-haired agent. The others of the team looked below wearily before grappling down into safety. All but one.

Sam saw his chance to help. Coming around behind the straggler, he kicked the man in the back of the knees. The mercenary spun around surprised by the attack and earned a right hook to the face. Sam grasped the assault rifle with his right and slashed at the man with his left, effectively disarming him. With a well-placed kick, the attacker fell to the street below. Grabbing the gun in a firm hold, he peered onto the road below. Four stood aiming at Steve with what looked to be assault rifles and a turret of some sort. Steve was holding out from behind his shield but not for long. One of the men tried to flank and Sam aimed down his sight. Taking the shot, the man fell limply to the ground. Just in time too as Steve leapt onto the car with the turret and knocked out the wielder. The only assailant left was covered behind a car and concentrated on Sam. The dark man turned and yelled to Steve.

"Go! I've got this." Steve looked up uncertainly before nodding and chasing after the leader and Nat.

Sam kept the attention of the last man and carefully aimed down the sight, sending a final bullet. The man crumpled. Sam heaved a breath and dropped the gun to his side. His heart beat like a frightened bird in his chest but the adrenaline hadn't worn off yet. His muscles felt alive. Shaking the feeling back into his hands, he started for the demolished car. His wing suit was in there. He had forgotten it in the fray, but maybe he could help aerially. He made it about half way when a shot rang out from afar. The gun in his hand shuttered and forcefully left his hand. He jerked his head towards the source and barely saw the outline of a person standing on the mercenaries' car. Their thin body gracefully descended from the frame of the hulking SUV. They tossed aside the pistol, the hollow sound emerging from the empty magazine. As they drew closer, Sam saw the mask that covered their face, but did not fail to recognize the gait. It was a woman beneath the dark combat suit, he was sure. Her hair whipped violently to the side as the wind picked up. The raven locks almost blue in the sunlight.

Sam didn't know what to make of her. She was obviously part of the group that attacked them, yet she had solely disarmed him with her last bullet when she could have easily killed him. His eyebrows furrowed in concentration. Taking a defensive stance, he prepared for her attack. She held nothing in her hands and didn't seem inclined to reach for one of the many knives in her various holsters. Sam stared her down while looking around. Surely this was a trap. Right?

The woman stopped around ten feet away. Too far for him to strike, but close enough for him to see her collarbones jutting out from her chest. She was so thin, starved. He remembered seeing civilians in Afghanistan starved out of their homes, coming to the base in herds, hoping for sanctuary. He wiped the memory from his mind. The last thing he needed was to pity and underestimate an opponent. They stood for a few seconds, observing each other. The anxiety getting to him, he charged forward, swiping downward. She grasped his wrist easily and punched him in the stomach. Sam staggered back and held a hand to area. It actually hurt. How could something so frail looking put so much strength behind an attack?

He narrowed his eyes at her and tried again. She once again deflected the attack. Growing angry, he went to grab her around the middle. She tried to move to the right but he was able to grab her vest in time to pull her to the ground with his forward momentum. They tumbled over each other, trying to gain the upper hand. Her hands left unforgiving punches at his body and he was able to cut a thin slice into her arm. She paused to look at the cut and calmly took the knife forcibly from his grip. He struggled to get the upper hand, but she was like putty, moving herself lithely to remain on top. He landed a punch to her ribs but she barely flinched.

Apparently beginning to get bored, she wrapped her small hands around his throat. Sam pulled at her grip but found them hard as steel. Instead he went for her face. Tearing away the mask and goggles, he found an oval face. Wild black locks loomed around her pale face making the shadows of her gaunt face sinister. Blank, glassy orbs stared back unseeing. She looked like a woman possessed by the devil himself. The world around his vision began to darker as the air escaped his lungs. He struggled once more before reaching for what Natasha had given them before picking up Sitwell. She had said not to use it unless it was dire and he considered his position just that. The small round disk surged with blue electricity. He needed to disengage himself for a split second and attach this to her. With a last ditch effort, he plowed an elbow in to the inside crevice of her arm and her elbow unhinged just long enough to roll her off. He quickly pushed the small button on top of the disk and threw it at the girl. The magnet attached and quickly let the first surge of electricity flow. A loud crack-like lightning sounded and the girl heaved forward with wide eyes of shock. She let out a painful shriek and collapsed to her knees. The rivets of white electricity flowed through every muscle and she spasmed violently, as though in a seizure. The surge stopped and she looked at him. Her eyes were wide with pain and pleading. Something had changed. She looked different. Aware.

The pupils of her eyes had regressed back to the middle and a soft brown replacing the black. Her hand went to grasp the small disk and tug it off but it was deeply attached to the metal of her vest. Her chest heaved great gasps, face flushed with blood, and she muttered one last plea.

"Help."

He didn't know what to do. Was this a trick? A trap waiting to ensnare him? The soldier in him remained complacent, but the councilor in him wanted to help. This was not the same girl from twenty seconds before. She even looked different, more aware and conscious even in her painful spasm. She looked as though she was coming out of a nightmare and realizing this world was just as bad. Her body was no longer a stiff robotic frame but rounded and soft. This nurturing part won out and he started towards her.

That's when the second surge started. She wailed in anguish and fell forward convulsing. Sam couldn't touch her in this state or he would be shocked too. He could start to smell the burn of the electricity against her skin and instantly regretted using this against her.

He tried to justify his actions. She _had _been trying to choke the life out of him, but even that hadn't lined up in his mind. She hadn't shot him, she hadn't armed herself, and she only used non-lethal ways to subdue him. It's as if he would have passed out from her hold and remained unconscious until he woke. This would have kept him from the fight and out of dangers way. Why would his enemy want that? He peered at her stiff flailing body uneasily. This shock lasted much longer than the last. Her eyes had now rolled into the back of her head and only the white showed. The blood vessels were beginning to burst under the pressure and blood soon filled the bottom of her eyes. She truly looked possessed now and he found himself unable to take it. He paced back and forth unsure, rubbing a hand over his hair.

When the shock finally ended, she remained motionless. He quickly rolled her ragdoll body over and pressed the button again. Praying it released her from its hold. It did. He threw it as far as he could away and tried to shake the girl awake. Her head remained limp and he began to get scared. Carefully placing her back to the ground, he felt around her thin neck for a pulse. A signal she was still apart of this world. He waited patiently.

Ten seconds passed.

Then another.

Sam pulled back and stepped away from her body. Without thinking, he regressed back into his mind and remembered Steve and Natasha. They were his teammates, not this woman. They needed him. This woman needed no one anymore. He sped back to the car to retrieve his suit, but not before looking back to her, haunted by her. Knowing that he was the last person she would ever see.

* * *

Oh, he was pissed. Actually, seething was the correct word to use in this context. Not only had the day gone horribly wrong, but he had almost been shot. This was supposed to be a foolproof operation. They had accomplished the goal of exterminating Sitwell. The little man had cracked like an egg under the interrogation of his two targets, and was dealt with accordingly. Of course, not all were as easy to get rid of. Case in point? The little she-devil he was currently chasing.

In all seriousness, he was impressed by the woman. She had almost outsmarted him twice and was holding her own against a group of trained assassins. In fact, she reminded him of the one they left behind as back up. Mara. Before the change, the Hydra agent would have done almost the same exact thing against an enemy. Trying to use cunning wit and surprise as a tactic. Now, she sat back at the highway, waiting for her cue. Blank and vacant as a statue.

He glared at the thought. Yes, he was pissed, but there was some relief in the thought that she was far away from this battle. Safe. Her job was to provide the finishing blow. To swoop in at the last minute and defeat the two targets with practiced ease. The superiors thought this would be very dramatic and leave a lingering message of futileness. The two targets, apparently S.H.I.E.L.D.'s best, were to be annihilated by Hydra's two aces. A trade in power. She would only need to get involved at the end when victory was certain, and the Winter Soldier found a little comfort in this information.

A cop car raced by his left, sirens screaming into the air. He placed a well-aimed grenade right in its hood and watched it turn into a piece of burning rubble. The flames soothing a little bit of the heat under his skin. The sun bore heavily above his head and glared against his eyes. He paced forward with conviction, remembering just why he didn't have his goggles and concentrated on finding and killing the little spider that caused him so much trouble.

Civilians raced by terrified and confused. Many not even knowing that he was the creator of this chaos. Their faces frozen in horror and disbelief. He ignored them, not seeing the face he wanted to erase from history. Looking sideways and hearing for anything that resembled the little seductress, he slowed his movements. A clear, feminine voice rose above the panicked screams of the ignorant. Stopping completely, he pin-pointed the location behind a car a few feet away. Reminding himself that it wasn't a normal target he was hunting, he crouched and took a small ball from the pouch by his back. The small metal grenade rolled quietly to the origin of the voice and the Winter Soldier prepared himself for anything. After all, this woman had evaded grenade and gunfire already.

A ferocious blast erupted behind the car and no cry of surprise with it. Odd. He didn't have time to contemplate with strangeness before the was answer was straddling his neck. The petite woman was on his back, riding him like a bull in a ring. She tried to choke him with a wire but he caught it in time, throwing her off. She grunted in pain as she fell. He was getting real tired of this red-haired siren. Grabbing his assault rifle, he meant to end this scuffle. Mara would have her limelight elsewhere; he would finish this.

Raising the rifle, he caught a glimpse of a small metal particle coming his way and attaching to his arm. Suddenly, a shock coursed through the circuitry of his metal arm. The alloy prosthetic fell limply to his side as his target ran, heels clicking against the pavement. He threw down the gun angrily and grasped the small disk from his arm. Ripping it forcibly, he threw it to the side. The metal was damaged, he could see. Warily, he tested his distal digits and found them rebooting slowly. Some relief washed over him.

Again, he pursued the current bane of his existence. How could someone be so hard to kill? This time, it was not hard to find her. She race down the streets, screaming at the running people. Telling them to get into cover. He thought it ironic that she didn't follow her own advice and lined the shot. The butt of the gun ricocheted against his shoulder as the bullet left the barrel and found purchase in her torso. Time to end this. He jumped to the car directly in her sight and looked down the barrel to her frightened face. Good bye Black Widow.

Or so he had hoped. For the second time today, he was rushed. A large American shield high-tailing straight into face. He blocked it with his fist, a loud twang sounding from the vibration. Pushing it away, he came face-to-face with his second target. The tall blonde looked relatively unscathed, which begged the question, what happened to his men? Or better yet, where was Mara? He had told his men to watch out for the American icon and take him out. Armed with a turret, it should have been no problem. Even if they were not able to finish him, Mara would have stepped in as lead and followed protocol. She was tasked to exterminate him if the team failed. So, once again. Where was Mara?

Worry crept slowly through his limbs. Thinking of any alternative, he engaged in a battle of strength against the tall man. The target was fast and smart, battling instinctively. They exchanged blows but many were blocked on both sides. They were so evenly matched; it was as if they knew each other's moves and weaknesses. It didn't feel like fight but more of a spar. A dance between two partners. The Winter Soldier blocked and parried as much as the man he fought. Knife against shield. When it didn't seem as though there would ever be a winner, the blonde surprised him. The edge of the shield drove into his forehead and his target's large hand wrapped around his face, flinging him towards the ground. Within the tumbling, his mask fell to the wayside. The strap had broken from the battle and lay useless on the ground.

Glancing up to the enemy, he saw something he didn't expect. The blonde stood still like a statue, disbelief and confusion trading places intermittently on his face. His body was no longer in the defense but slack, as if in shock. The large hands that had been punching at his body now shook visibly from a distance and blue eyes creased in incredulity. The mercenary stared at the man, perturbed by the sudden change in atmosphere.

"Bucky?"

The American hero's voice sounded strained as though the word hurt him physically. The Winter Soldier stood stock still, the word that hung in the air sending a shock worse than the Widow's gadget. All other thoughts were lost to two syllables. Why did that name sound so familiar? Why did his head hurt? His heart was pounding in his head and pressure building. Different emotions clawed their way from his stomach to his throat and he suddenly felt the need to throw down his weapons and succumb to them. The assassin felt vulnerable and instantly tried to build the walls back up. Swallowing any weakness that may show he spoke. Saying words that were truer than perceived.

"Who the hell is Bucky?"

He raised his gun wanting to end this spell the blonde had put him under. Put a bullet in his brain, right between his furrowed brows, and run back to Hydra. He almost did too before he was kicked from behind. The other one that was with the targets. The dark man with wings. He had come to join the fight too.

What was going on? Where was everyone else? Who was Bucky? _Where was Mara?_

Overwhelmed with the disorder and confusion, he just wanted to run. As far away as possible, but the assassin in him beckoned and commanded him to finish it. Finish the mission. Raising the gun in a last ditch effort, he aimed to shoot. A second explosion pushed him to the ground as the car beside him engulfed in flames. That was the final straw. He couldn't take it anymore. The muddled screams running rampant in his mind clouded any other thoughts.

He ran.

* * *

A.N: It's a Halloween miracle! YAAAYYYY Anyways... I've written this chapter about seven times and this was the only version I was happy with. Yes, it's a bit of a cliff hanger and I hope not too boring with all the technicalities I had to go into. If it was confusing, don't worry, all will be revealed!

Anyways, there are 100 of you favoriting me right now and I have never been so overwhelmed in my life. Thank you Thank you Thank you.

I have also been re-edit/ re-writing the past chapter which is why this has been taking so long, so watch out for that.

Soooo, have a happy and safe halloween!


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